Identity of Love and Sand
by YZYdragon2222
Summary: Shikadai's heritage has always been an important part of his life, in ways he knows too well and in ways he hasn't discovered. He assumes his identity as Konoha's next lazy shadow-manipulating genius, because anything else would be too troublesome. However, after an attempt on his life, he, with Uncle Gaara's help, unearths his roots in the Sand and forges a new identity.
1. Prologue: I Will Always Protect You

**Author's Note: Hello to readers from, depending on your point of view, the mastermind behind this ingenious fanfiction, or the amateur behind this ridiculous clutter of nonsense. Feel honored that I value your opinion, so feel free to let me know whether I am the former or latter in the reviews section!**

 **If you have any questions regarding this story, do not hesitate to ask and I will gladly answer.**

 **Prologue: I Will Always Protect You**

If doors had feelings, this one surely would have died from all the attention it was receiving.

There was nothing really special about it. It was simply a normal hospital door marked with _Room #422_. Nevertheless, there was quiet the impressive audience gathered outside it. Most notably, the Hokage adviser, Nara Clan Head Shikamaru Nara, was having a staring contest with the door. For once, he gaze was settled upon something other than clouds, and his normally sharp mind was torn between running away or ripping the door open.

He was flanked by the head of the Akimichi Clan, Chouji Akimichi, on his right, and none other than the Hokage himself on his left. Due to the sanitary conditions required in the hospital, food was not allowed, and Chouji had no choice but to settle for patting his best friend reassuringly on the back while whining to himself about his poor stomach. Naruto Uzumaki's incessant and overly enthusiastic chatter filled the otherwise fretful silence and was easily ignored by those present.

On the row of chairs behind them sat Chouji's wife Karui, Naruto's wife Hinata Hyuga, Kiba Inuzuka, and Shino Aburame. Akamaru was not present for the same reason Choji's food was banned, much to Kiba's chagrin. He and Karui were engaged in a friendly conversation, while Hinata commented once in a while in her soft, gentle manner. Shino was, unsurprisingly, silent.

Kurenai Yuhi and past Hokages Tsunade and Kakashi Hatake stood in a cluster by the wall, reflecting on old times and the new generation. Kurenai's daughter Mirai Sarutobi sat on the floor near them, playing with dolls.

No one really wanted to know what Might Guy and Rock Lee were doing, but out of curiosity's sake, they were...racing each other around the hospital. Not to be outdone by his sensei, Lee had somehow managed to acquire a wheelchair and the two were currently breaking the record for fastest wheelchair. Or, more accurately, fastest anything-that-moves-on-wheels. Tenten stood watching her husband and his sensei, and would have sighed every time they turned the corner if it were not for the fact that they did so about every ten seconds.

Sai was watching the strained yet equally endearing scene before him, immortalizing it into his sketchpad.

And in a final corner stood the Sand brothers Kankuro and Sabaku no Gaara, who was none other than the Kazekage himself, whose silent presence was ironically easy to forget and impossible to ignore at the same time. Kankuro, who currently lacked his trademark cat-eared hood and face paint, shifted on his feet every few minutes, eyes darting nervously between his brother, brother-in-law, and the door. Gaara, on the other hand, could easily have been mistaken for a statue, his arms crossed in their signature manner and his ringed eyes unblinking at the door. The young man did have a talent for making people fidget without moving at all.

The door sure was lucky it had no feelings.

Notably absent were Ino Yamanaka, Sakura Haruno, and of course, the third Sand Sibling and also Shikamaru Nara's number one troublesome woman, Temari. They were behind the door.

At the very moment, Ino and Sakura were in the process of delivering Shikamaru and Temari's son. Of all the Konoha 12, Shikamaru's offspring was the last one to be born, and although his future comrades were within a year or two of his age, his birth still bore the brunt of everyone's anticipation. Shikamaru's thoughts shifted to the rather embarrassing conversation he'd had with his teammate Ino and her husband Sai when they'd found out Temari was pregnant.

 _"Finally, Temari? Took you guys long enough!" said Ino._

 _"We all expected it to be quicker, since Temari seems to be the type to be very demanding regarding consummation," said Sai. Ino guffawed._

 _"Oh no, here we go..." thought Shikamaru._

 _"You ass! I'm not some slut, you know. Besides, it's all Shikamaru's fault. Apparently his sperm were too lazy to fertilize me," Temari smirked._

 _Shikamaru's ears turned red. "W-wha—H-How is it my fault?"_

 _"That, or little Shika's a stubborn one, like me!" she patted her stomach and flashed a proud and scary smile, which promptly made Shikamaru feel very bad for "little Shika"._

Shikamaru shook his head of those thoughts and tightened his already-clenched fists. At that momen, Naruto's chattering suddenly stopped mid-sentence, as if a pause button had been pressed. Shikamaru, Naruto, and Choji all turned around at the same time as the rest of the room silenced itself to observe the scene. Even Lee and Gai decided to put a break to their race.

In the back of his mind, Naruto wondered why he could yell at the top of his lungs and have everyone ignore him, while Gaara could make his presence acknowledged just by standing there doing nothing.

The cool, sea-foam green of Gaara's pupiless eyes burned with intensity as they regarded Shikamaru, who, to his credit, did not flinch, even if Gaara was his youngest brother-in-law.

"Elder brother—" only Gaara's monotone could hold so much emotion—"ironic, isn't it. We met and spoke for the first time in this hospital. You were there as well, Naruto. To think that we are again joined after so many years in this same building, but under such different circumstances."

Shikamaru thought back to the Gaara he had met during the fateful Chunin Exams so long ago.

 _"You speak of love? Don't measure me by your standards!"_

 _"Love...family...the only emotional ties I have to my family are the ones I like to wrap around their necks, they're only ties of hate!"_

"Back then, you most likely considered me a monster and hoped to never associate with or see me again..."

 _"...that Sand Village guy...I don't even like being in the same room with him..."_

 _"That freak! He's out of his mind!"_

"Tell me, elder brother...with your keen, sharp analytical mind and uncanny ability to predict the course of future events...were you able to foretell that day that you would in the future marry my sister?"

Naruto laughed—not his loud, obnoxious laugh, but a sound that was music to the ears and evoked pure happiness. The sound of Gaara's—no, his brother's—calm voice melted the nervousness in Shikamaru's heart, despite the predicament happening beyond the Door. His shoulders relaxed and his fists unclenched, and he felt a tugging at the corners of lips.

Shikamaru wasn't the only one affected; the others in the room all had peaceful smiles on their faces (except for Lee and Gai, who had rivers of tears streaming from their eyes and were whispering, "What a touching display of YOUTH!"). Kankuro, who was standing behind Gaara, was looking at Shikamaru with a glint in his eyes.

Gaara brought his hand up to Shikamaru's shoulder. In the back of his mind, Shikamaru realized that Gaara actually had to reach up to do so; was he that much taller than the Kazekage?

"It may be Fate's doing that here, in this place...we are now together rejoicing the birth of a child. Shikamaru...I promise...your son—"

To an inexperienced ear, it would seem that Gaara had suddenly cut off his sentence without reason, but Shikamaru could tell that Gaara was actually too choked up on his emotions to continue. However, the tightened grip on his shoulder and the look in Gaara's eyes told him everything.

Gaara had always been one who let his actions do the talking.

And Kankuro—the ever-proud, confident puppet master—looked on the verge of tears.

Shikamaru wondered whatever had he done not only to have the most beautiful and perfect woman as his wife, but to also have brother-in-laws with hearts of gold. He was often told that he was lucky to be married to the sister of the Kazekage. But he knew better.

He was lucky to be married to the sister of one of the most pure-hearted souls he had ever come across.

The sentimental moment was perfectly ruined by none other than Lee. "I am sorry for interrupting this youthful conversation Gaara, but allow me to ask you what you were doing in the hospital with Shikamaru and Naruto when you first met?"

Gaara's eyes became emotionless once more, and Shikamaru wondered not for the first time if they were made of glass.

Gaara's head slowly turned and his gaze locked upon Lee's. "I was here trying to murder you, Lee," Gaara said in what could be considered a conversational tone.

Another one of Gaara's talents was making everything and anything sound like an announcement of the weather. Awkward silence ensued.

Before Lee could reply, the moment was perfectly ruined again, and this time, everyone was relieved. The door slammed open to reveal a disheveled Sakura and Ino, who both looked exhausted and elated at the same time.

Then everybody heard it: the loud crying of a baby, and to Shikamaru and Gaara it was the most beautiful sound they had ever heard.

"Just family members can come in for now," Sakura said, looking knowingly at Shikamaru and the Sand brothers.

Shikamaru legs suddenly felt like jello. He looked at Kankuro and Gaara, whom he had expected would be all too eager for the opportunity to see his nephew—or as eager as the stoic Gaara could get, at least—but the redhead simply shook his head and said, "you should spend a private moment with your wife and son. Alert me when you are ready for our presence."

Of course, Shikamaru had no idea that Gaara had been using his Sand Eye to observe the entire birthing process, so assumed he was being extremely generous.

So, with newfound strength, Shikamaru turned and marched into the room with his two most precious people inside.

* * *

When Shikamaru returned to the door, he looked like a different man. In other words, the happiest man alive. Gaara looked at him and suddenly remembered the lust he used to feel for blood. In no way could that compare to the insatiable desire to meet his nephew now, to hold him, to _love_ him—and seeing the content look in his brother-in-law's eyes increased his hunger exponentially.

No words needed to be spoken between them as Shikamaru gave Kankuro and Gaara an inviting gesture to come inside.

Shikamaru returned to his wife's bedside, and the power of the scene before him was too great for even Gaara's strongest sand defense. Sitting upright on the bed was his beloved sister, leaning her head onto Shikamaru's shoulder. A bundle was cradled in her arms, and in them Gaara could see the black-haired child who seemed to greatly resembled his father. Temari's sandy-blonde hair was relieved of its trademark ponytails and was instead cascading gently down her shoulders. Only one word came to mind as Gaara observed the gentleness in Temari's normally steely teal eyes that he'd seen elsewhere before, just not exhibited by his sister.

 _Karura._

Karura: the woman with the soft, mysterious, but undeniably compassionate smile, whose eyes spoke of love, and whose spirit protectively embraced the children she had never met. Then, Gaara suddenly thought inexplicably of Rasa, his father, who, in contrast, had a harsh demeanor and whose eyes had held a permanent glare. _And to think it was all just a facade_ , Gaara thought as he recounted his encounter with Edo Tensei Rasa, _to hide a soul who was too afraid to feel love._ Time, death, and realization had sealed away Gaara's feelings of fear and hate for the dead man, and he only wondered how Rasa would feel about the bringing of this child into the world. _This boy has both Karura's and Rasa's blood flowing through his veins_ , Gaara thought.

As if walking on eggshells, Gaara precariously stepped closer to Temari's bed. Both Shikamaru and Temari looked up and smiled at him.

"Gaara," Temari said, "meet your nephew, Shikadai."

 _Nephew_. Gaara's throat constricted. He had previously always considered the child his sister's son, a reason to consider him precious, but at this moment, he realized that Shikadai was also _his_ ; _his_ nephew, _his_ beloved nephew.

The Kazekage looked down at the baby, and on a normal day his sister and brother would have snickered at his owlish expression. Shikadai was currently sleeping peacefully in Temari's arms, unaware that his own uncle was scrutinizing him like a museum's most delicate artifact.

"Would you like to hold him? Gaara?" Temari asked.

Feebly, Gaara nodded; Temari held out the child to him, and carefully, _carefully_ , he cradled the bundle into his arms.

He didn't know how long he stood there; it could have been a few minutes, or a few hours, but the only things Gaara was aware of were the life he literally held in his arms, the warmth and soft breathing of the child that was curled against his body, and the beating of his own heart. _Love...is what makes me feel alive._

A strange feeling washed over him, and slowly, he lifted his eyes from Shikadai's beautiful, tiny face to look at his sister and brother-in-law.

"Could I have a moment please? In private?"

It was an odd request, considering that Shikadai had just been _born,_ but everyone understood how surreal this situation must have been for Gaara to be with a _newborn_ precious person, especially since the circumstances of his own birth and childhood. Shikamaru gave him an understanding thumbs-up and Temari said, "Of course, Gaara."

Gaara looked at Kankuro, who, despite secretly wanting very badly to hold Shikadai too, but understood the delicacy of Gaara's current emotions, gave him a nod.

In the blink of an eye, uncle and nephew disappeared in a swirl of sand.

* * *

With Gaara and Shikadai now gone, Kankuro left Shikamaru and Temari to their privacy (probably to have their first make-out session as parents, which the puppet master had no interest in witnessing) and stepped out of Room #422. He was immediately pounced upon by the Hokage. "WELL? Where's the baby? Uncle Naruto wants to meet him!"

Kankuro gave an annoyed huff and shrugged the Uzumaki off. "Get off of me, you squirt. And I have no idea. He's gone."

"WHAAAAAT?!" everyone in the room screamed at the same time.

"Geez, pipe down, will ya? I mean his Uncle Gaara's run off with him somewhere. Who knows where the hell they are?" His demeanor became more serious as he regarded Naruto. "You alone should know how important this is to Gaara."

* * *

For all they knew, Gaara could have teleported Shikadai back to Sunagakure, but he had actually only taken the baby and himself to a vacant hospital room.

Having harbored a broken heart for so many years of his life, Gaara was very familiar with feeling pain in his chesst from a wound to the heart. However, over the years, the wound had closed from the medicine he had received from Naruto, Temari, Kankuro, his village of Sunagakure, his brother-in-law Shikamaru...and of course, Yashamaru, Karura, and Rasa. Now, however, in his happiest hour, Gaara felt as if his heart was ready to burst. He was sure it was not a wound, because he felt no pain and was unfamiliar to the sensation.

Still cradling the sleeping Shikadai to his body, he raised one shaky arm to clutch the maroon robes in front of his chest. "Mother...Father...could it be possible...that love can do more than just heal wounds dealt to the heart?"

He lowered his hand from his heart and gathered Shikadai even closer to his body, relishing in the feeling of warmth that rushed through his veins.

"No matter what happens, I will always protect you! Shikadai...!"

* * *

Tears of happiness filled her eyes as she heard her son's words, the same words she herself had uttered years ago as a parting gift to him, and the man beside her glanced down at their intertwined hands as her grip tightened.

"Shikadai..." Karura whispered, shutting her eyes tight as the tears finally spilled and rolled down her cheeks, "what a gorgeous child. Rasa...our grandson—I just... _love_ this boy so much already...I want to serve him, and protect him...!" She lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers over her heart in that gentle manner that was unique to her.

Rasa suddenly felt tears welling up in his own eyes as well. He inexplicably thought of one of the most important shinobi rules that had been drilled into his head since before he was a genin. _Shinobi must never show emotion. Shinobi must not cry._

And following those rules like the scripture had helped him become a brilliant shinobi and the Kazekage. In his opinion, it also helped him become one of the worst Kazekages in Sunagakure's history, killed his precious wife, made even the eternally compassionate Yashamaru come to hate him, made a living hell out of his children's childhoods, and, as an ultimatum, landed himself dead.

When he opened his mouth, he was barely able to speak above a whisper. The tears that rolled down his cheeks were, unlike hers, those of sadness and despair. "That's because...Karura...you have an incredibly precious grandson."

Rasa had heard of scary women before—in fact, he had one of the worst ones in history for a daughter, and knew that their husbands suffered frequent headaches from loud and vulgar reprimanding and blows to the head (his son-in-law had it worst, frequenting bruises from a giant _iron_ fan). Sometimes, Rasa wished he had married such a woman, because any beating was better than seeing sorrow in Karura's emotion-filled eyes.

The fingers on his wife's bosom tightened. "Why do you say that, Rasa? He is just as much yours as he is mine."

He shook his head, and before she could protest, said, "You never cease to amaze me, Karura. You were never a shinobi, and yet you have more power than anyone I, who was once a Kage, have ever met. Your love for your children was unchallengeable and manifested itself into the most flawless defense the shinobi world has ever seen. You are the reason Gaara is the Kazekage, the reason Kankuro and Temari are the most honored ninja of Sunagakure, and the reason Temari now has a happy family. And now your love has been passed down from your children to this grandson, and for as long as your bloodline continues your love will live on. All this love from you, Karura, who never even had the chance to meet the people you love the most and protect so well. I...unlike you, was blessed with so many years to spend with my children, and not only did I fail in the most basic of parents' tasks...but the only thing I ever gave them was hatred and hurt. The only legacy this child will receive from me..." he gestured to Shikadai, "will be the pain I gave to his mother and uncles."

Karura removed her hand from her heart and placed it over Rasa's instead, and the Fourth Kazekage's breath caught in his throat as he looked into his wife's deep indigo eyes and waited for her words. If any words should be treated as scripture, they should be Karura's.

"You're only half right. I may have passed down a great deal of love to my children, but I was only fulfilling my sole purpose in life: to be a mother. My children were my one responsibility and that in itself was a huge one.

"Shinobi, on the other hand, are people who are burdened with the responsibility of duty and pain. Kage are shinobi who are burdened with those same responsibilities, but thousand-fold, because all the shinobi and citizens of their village are their responsibility. You were the Kazekage," here Karura paused and smiled proudly at her husband, "and I was your wife and a mother. Our children are the Sand Siblings, the formidable shinobi trio, one of whom is now the Kazekage and youngest kage in history, who helped save the world. They owe their skills not to me but to their father, who I know, and they know, without a doubt, was a great shinobi."

Rasa would have interrupted, but the moment Karura had opened her mouth his mouth had been sewed shut.

"I won't lie to you and say that you raised them in a good manner after all," Karura sighed, diverting her eyes for a few seconds, "but every man makes mistakes. On top of that, you were the Kazekage who was also a single father to a girl, a boy, and a jinchuuriki hated by the very villagers whom you had sworn responsibility to as the Kazekage. Two civilian parents with no other purpose than to be a good mother and father would be at a loss at what to do.

"You were afraid to love, and even if you wanted to, you didn't know how to do it. And it breaks my heart to know that I couldn't be there to help you while you and our children were suffering, Rasa. But even though you buried your love underneath all that Gold Dust of yours, I know you still felt it, somewhere deep down. I know it, because I was watching you. You trained Temari, Kankuro, and Gaara to become strong shinobi because that was the best thing to do for them in the heartless shinobi world you were buried so deep in. You took every effort to make Gaara a successful weapon for the village, because he was created for that purpose and it broke your heart to see your son have to suffer through failing to live up to expectations. You were happy when he finally became the weapon Sunagakure could use, despite having become a self-loving monster whose sole purpose was to kill, because in a way, it was to you the same as a parent watching their child succeed in a difficult task.

"You didn't know you were giving love, and our children didn't know they were receiving it from you. But love is a mysterious creature—it is like a desert plant that can survive the harshest and most testing of conditions, but with proper nurturing and care it can grow into the lushest tree blooming with the most beautiful flowers. But the point is, once it's there, it can only grow; and even an attempt at giving love is enough to sow its seeds.

"In addition, you _have_ given love to our children. When you were reanimated—without the burden of being Kazekage you were finally able to assume your role as their _father_ , and you proved to Gaara that you loved him. Didn't Gaara say he'd received medicine from you? You healed his heart, Rasa, and that is love. And it is enough to count for a million years."

Karura finished her heart-melting speech, and as if her husband hadn't been reduced to mush already, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Only soft, gentle Karura could jar Rasa's soul so violently. He practically melted into her touch, her _existence_ , and Rasa felt incredibly lucky to have the world's largest reservoir of love as his wife.

But something still wasn't right.

"Then, Karura...why does it still...hurt so much here?"

He clutched his hand to his heart.

Karura's eyes widened. "It sounds like you have a wound to the heart, Rasa. They're trickier than flesh wounds...but there is one thing that can cure a wound to the heart."

Rasa sighed. "I know. It's love, isn't it..."

"Yes, you're right," Karura smiled. "But my little brother Yashamaru was naïve sometimes...there are some wounds to the heart that do not have to be administered by another person.

"Love is the heart's desire to serve someone precious to you. While receiving it can cure some wounds to the heart, others are healed by the act of giving it."

Rasa's head snapped up and he gave a small gasp, then looked down at his grandson who was still huddled against his youngest son's form. Karura followed his gaze knowingly.

He took both of his wife's hands in his own. Rather than melancholy, his eyes reflected a newfound confidence and determination and she returned the look with understanding and excitement. "He will most likely grow up to become a Leaf shinobi. In the past, this would be considered a violation to my bloodline, but now I do not care a single bit about that. All I want to do now is protect him. I want to make sure that he never has to experience wounds to the heart...and if he does, I want to help administer the medicine." He paused. "Karura, I want to give Shikadai something."

She nodded. "Then let's go."

* * *

In his dazed state, Gaara could not be sure if it was the doing of his own subconscious or if it was acting of its own accord, but his sand suddenly materialized into two human figures right before his eyes.

The man had familiar messy blood-red hair and black eyes, while the woman next to him had shoulder-length light brown hair and almond-shaped, indigo eyes.

If he were not so determined to protect the baby, Gaara would have dropped him out of surprise.

Gaara had always known his mother was amazing. He never was able to get so lost in anybody's eyes but hers, and in the past he had only had photographs to look at. Now his mother was standing before him, looking so real, deep indigo eyes swimming with affection, and Gaara knew that her eyes were more powerful than any Sharingan genjutsu.

And his father—seeing him so close to his mother, seeing the tender way his parents held on to each other, Sunagakure's cursed star-crossed lovers finally reunited in death—and the compassionate look in his eyes that he shared with Karura—the look of love he had craved for as a child and had finally received at long last—at this moment, all Gaara was aware of was the constriction in his chest and the tears brimming his eyes.

Karura took an enthusiastic step forward, her hand reaching out as if to touch Gaara, her mouth open about to say something—and then she stopped, realization washing over her as she settled back into position next to her husband with a bittersweet smile on her face.

"Mother—Father—" it took all of Gaara's willpower to make sure his voice didn't waver, "this is your grandson, Shikadai."

He removed the small bundle from its comfortable position against his chest and held it out to Karura. Karura understood the gesture and held out her arms to receive the offered bundle.

"Shikadai, say hello to Grandmother. And Grandfather," Gaara whispered as he gently placed his nephew in Karura's arms. Rasa looked at Gaara in surprise, eyes wide with gratitude for being acknowledged.

The bittersweet curve on Karura's lips split into a true smile as she gathered the black-haired baby close to her bosom with grace in her posture that Gaara though resembled nothing like his own stiff, rigid motions. She gently caressed her fingertips against Shikadai's cheek, and Gaara could literally feel the aura of love emanating from her. _Love...is even more powerful than death_.

His attention was diverted to Rasa's, whose current owlish expression was almost a carbon copy's of Gaara's only a few minutes earlier.

As if sensing a change, the young Nara awoke from his slumber, eyes fluttering open for the first time. His curious gaze settled upon his grandparents, and he seemed to look up at them in awe.

For a moment, Karura, Rasa, and Gaara all looked at each other in wonder as they took in Shikadai's almond-shaped, teal eyes. Aside from their color, which was inherited from Temari, they were obviously Karura's eyes. _Karura...you live on in this child._

Karura turned to her husband and took one of his inexperienced hands and lead it closer to the teal-eyed boy. _He's your grandson, Rasa. Touch him._

Shikadai made a small gurgling noise when he saw the approaching hand and grabbed the Fourth Kazekage's finger, gripping it tightly. He giggled as if he had just acquired a new toy.

A few seconds passed and suddenly Gaara started when the look in his father's eyes changed. It was...determination? For a split second, Gaara felt a jolt of panic and the memory of his father from his childhood days rushed into his mind. His father always had that look in his eyes when he looked at Gaara, full of determination and intent to destroy him.

But the feeling passed quickly, and Gaara felt silly for even having worried in the first place. The look in Rasa's eyes looked nothing like the way they did in the past. The resolve in his eyes...it was out of determination to protect and preserve.

 _This is the happy family I always wanted_...thought Gaara.

Tenderly, Rasa pried Shikadai's small fist from his finger and softly encompassed the baby's black-haired head with his palm. Shikadai's eyes crossed as he looked up at his grandfather's hand, and made a curious noise as if to ask, _What are you doing, Grandpa?_

Rasa brought his other hand in front of his chest and performed a hand sign. In moments, black, tanuki-like rings that looked just like Gaara's permanent ones surrounded his eyes.

 _The Magnet Release! The Kekkei Genkai both Father and I possess! What is he doing..._

Before Gaara had time to ponder further, the black rings around Rasa's eyes receded and he put down his hand. The red-haired man looked at his wife and they looked at each other knowingly, as if communicating in the secret language of lovers. Gaara regarded his mother's face and felt very bad for his father for having lost this woman so long ago. _All those years after Mother died...he must have lonely, and living without love as well._

Sand started to swirl around the couple and Karura and Rasa turned back to their own son. The pride in their eyes was unmistakable. With a small nod, Karura held Shikadai out to return to Gaara once more. _Time is up_.

Shikadai gave a small cry of protest as he felt himself leaving his grandparents' embrace, but when he realized that it was Gaara who was receiving him, he seemed to recognize him and deem him worthy. Just a few seconds after returning to Gaara's arms, his teal eyes fluttered shut once more as he returned to a peaceful slumber.

It started with the legs, then the torso began to vanish from existence, followed by the arms disintegrating into miniscule grains of sand. Gaara watched as his parents slowly turned into a swirling sandstorm. Soon only their eyes remained, and in the last few seconds Gaara clung hungrily to the sight of his mother and father's indigo and obsidian eyes, respectively, and they, in turn, used their remaining time on earth to do the same to Gaara's sea-foam green ones.

 _Goodbye._

Then they were gone, and the only traces that they had even been in the hospital room were the grains of sand drifting through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Gaara thought he saw specks of gold.

* * *

Gaara had a vague feeling that some time later, he had teleported himself and Shikadai back into Room #422. A spiky brown-haired man he remembered as his brother seemed to have approached him to take young Shikadai from his arms, and the room filled with people who seemed to call themselves Shikadai's new aunties and uncles, and they took turns passing him around and cooing to him in a high-pitched language. Shikadai soon made it back into the arms of a familiar sandy-blonde on the bed with a loud voice—was Temari her name? yes, he was sure of it—and she yelled at everybody in the room and shortly thereafter the crowd seemed to shuffle out of Room #422 in a panicked fit. He felt a sensation on his shoulder and turned to see a black haired man with a spiky ponytail patting him on the back. After exiting room, he was approached by numerous figures who stuck out their hands to him—what were they doing? was it some kind of a friendly gesture?—and he just stared at them until they left. Arms were thrown over his shoulders and he allowed them to collect there. After a while, he had the feeling that questions were being asked and some of them were being directed towards him—that tone of voice—were they concerned? but he allowed them deflect off his eardrums. He was attacked by a blonde but felt no animosity from the offending man, and allowed himself to be tackled onto a bed of sand on the floor.

But Gaara wasn't really lying on the hospital floor while the his brother stood watching over him, his concerned friends worried for his health, his friend blonde friend Naruto Uzumaki seizing him, shooting questions at him rapid-fire about his comatose state and whether or not he was okay. His mind was still lingering in that empty hospital room, and he was still admiring the gorgeous couple made of sand in front of him, the new grandparents who had come back from the land of the departed to bask their son and grandson with a gift of love that would last forever.

Gaara was a very logical person. All logic would say that what had just happened was a fragment of his imagination. All logic would that his parents did not just manifest their spirits through his sand to visit them. All logic would say that Shikadai never met his grandparents, and Gaara never saw those loving indigo and obsidian eyes.

That's why Gaara refused to believe for a second that they had been there, that he had met them.

He didn't have to believe. Because he _knew_ that he had just met the real Karura and Rasa.

He raised his hand and clutched the robes in front of his heart.

 **Author's Note: I should be posting the next chapter sometime this week. Check back to read more if you are interested!**


	2. Chapter 1: Troublesome Introspection

**Author's Note: When I said I'd update sometime this week, I didn't think I'd come so close to breaking that promise. This chapter is pretty long, but not much action actually takes place. It's the necessary groundwork I need to move the story forward and sensibly for future chapters. Just to clarify, this takes place after the Boruto movie. Not having watched the movie isn't an excuse for you readers, because I haven't either. I just read the Wiki. I don't think I really revealed anything that wasn't mentioned in previews or trailers.**

 **There are two characters mentioned in passing in this chapter: Hakuto and Shigezane. They're not OC's, but characters introduced in Gaara Hiden. Again, not having read it is not an excuse, because I haven't either.**

 **Speaking of the Naruto Hiden, I am anxious to know what the plot of Akatsuki Hiden is. The Akatsuki are right up there along with Gaara among my favorites. Anyone care to give me some pointers in the right direction in exchange for the wonderful story you're now reading?**

 **Anyway, if you haven't yet, I recommend my other story to you, called The Return of the Jinchuuriki. I just started that as well, but I hope that in the future, I can update chapters for each story within a week of each other. The second chapter of that one will be up soon as well.**

 **Also, about one of Shikadai's thoughts in this chapter: there is a big difference between the Kazekage being his uncle and Uncle Gaara being the Kazekage. Once you get there you should be able to figure it out. If you're intelligent. If you can't, then I'm sincerely sorry for the brain cells you possess. *snicker***

 **Be aware that Shikadai doesn't know anything about Uncle Gaara's past.**

 **Final note: I made Tenten Metal Lee's mother, in case you did not notice in the last chapter. I'm not sure if this will become relevant in my story, but I like the idea of her being Lee's wife and Metal Lee has to have a mother, anyway. It hasn't been confirmed or denied, so don't yell at me for straying from canon.**

 **Chapter 1—Troublesome Introspection**

Shikadai Nara was currently deeply engrossed in his favorite activity in the whole world. He was lying on a soft bed of grass on an isolated hill in Konohagakure, arms folded casually behind his spiky ponytail, the soft breeze tickling his skin. He let out a prolonged sigh, but not out of contentment. Unlike the relaxed position he was currently reposing in, his brows were furrowed and his large teal eyes were sharp and attentive as they glared at the clouds in the sky.

 _Why am I even analyzing something that wasn't complicated to begin with? Damn, how troublesome..._

The subject matter for Shikadai's analytic mind was his own life. The Life of Shikadai Nara. Shikadai let out a less than amused snort at that. He thought, rather cynically, that it was surprising that a biography of the same name hadn't yet been written about his life. _Right...people'd rather author something actually INTERESTING, not some boring account that everyone already knows about_. It seemed that everybody already knew everything there was to know about Shikadai; it was almost as if his life story had been planned long before he had been born. He imagined what his biography would look like:

 _Everyone knew since early on that Shikadai Nara's father Shikamaru was fated to marry his wife Temari because of Nara men's tendency to fall in love with pushy, troublesome women (Shikadai's grandfather Shikaku and his wife Yoshino were a testament to that). Then his parents went on and had him, and ever since he was a baby everyone knew that he would grow up to be lazy, find most things troublesome, enjoy cloud watching, be a Nara clan prodigy, and become a genius with an IQ of over 200 or somewhere close to that, like his dad and grandfather. His teammates would be Chouchou Akimichi and Inojin Yamanaka, together with whom he would form the next generation Shika-Ino-Cho combination. Shikadai would find ninja duties to be a drag, and at the Chunin Exams would probably give up his fight, like his dad had. He would grow up, most likely marry a troublesome, pushy woman himself, like his dad and grandfather, become Nara Clan Head and eventually become Hokage Adviser because of his undeniable smarts, also like his dad and grandfather._

What was there to complain about? It was nice to have his life laid out in front of him, and it wasn't a bad one. Shikadai argued to himself. It was a whole lot less troublesome than having to come up with something. He simply had to follow his father's footsteps and his life would be swell. Right?

Perhaps it was _because_ he was so much like his father that Shikadai was unsatisfied at the moment. Like any true Nara, Shikadai loved shougi, at which he was a master. He'd challenged what was basically the entire Konoha populace and had beaten them all, except, of course, for one Shikamaru Nara.

Playing against his mother was always extremelye enjoyable and memorable. Years of experience had taught Temari well and Shikadai had been come close to losing against her, though such a miracle never happened. While the end result was always the same—him winning—it was the challenge of the game that truly enthralled him. Putting his thinking skills on trial as he tried to maneuver his pieces into the most ideal positions for attack or defense and dominated his opponent's side of the board.

Right now, Shikadai's life was comparable to a game of shougi with Boruto—he actually shivered at the thought. He had won the game in a three moves. It was the one time he hadn't enjoyed playing his favorite game.

 _Shikadai moved his piece. "Boruto," he said. Boruto wasn't listening._

 _"Boruto!"_

 _The blonde whipped his head towards an annoyed Shikadai. "Huh?"_

 _"I win. I've had three moves and you've lost."_

 _Boruto stared at the board that was evidence of his overwhelming loss, then crossed his arms in defiance and began stalking off._

 _"Whatever! Shougi is stupid anyway. I'll never understand why you smartass Naras are so obsessed."_

He tried to think of a time something unexpected had happened in his life, or when he had done something that had surprised someone. _So few_. Others only seemed surprised when he didn't act like a carbon copy of his father at this age.

 _I wish I were a cloud...free to take on whatever shape or form, free to float all over the sky to go wherever I wanted...then when I see some people I don't like I can just rain all over their heads...hehehe..._

Shikadai wondered what his people would think if they knew what he was doing right now. No, scratch that. They probably already _did_ know. Lying around watching clouds... _Man, I'm predictable._

He gained an air of frustration. _They even said I would forfeit in the Chunin Exams, just because Dad did too! And the worst part is, I really DID forfeit!_

The 12-year-old who was still a genin scowled at the thought last Chunin Exams, the entirety of which had already been a troublesome fiasco even before Momoshiki and Kinshiki Otsutsuki had suddenly attacked. He sighed. He had persevered for once and made it through the entire test, even going up against the Hokage's son in the final round—and winning. _Then those stupid Otsutsukis had to attack and ruin everything, so now they're considering the Exams' results null and holding a replacement Exams soon...which means, we'll have to go through all of that AGAIN! Why did things have to get so troublesome..._

Shikadai sighed yet again. Thinking about the Chunin Exams always landed him in a bad mood. It hadn't been until after the event that he started questioning his life story like he was now. He wondered why. _Perhaps it's because that was the most unexpected thing to happen in my life so far. For the first time, peaceful Konoha was in chaos and grave danger and everyone around me that I knew and loved was in panic or fear...Perhaps...for the first time, I wasn't actually sure if I was going to survive, if the way of life I had been so sure about would actually happen that way...Life sure isn't a joke. And perhaps, it's because it was the first time I saw the Kages' true power and resolve to protect their villages. Protect us. Protect me._

Shikadai remembered his shock when he witnessed Lord Seventh Hokage's power. He'd been stunned, to put it simply. But he'd been amazed by the other Kages as well. _That's why they're called the most powerful shinobi in the shinobi world_ , he thought. But while he insisted to himself that all five of the Kage had intrigued, in the back of his mind he knew that his interests were always leaning towards certain sand jutsus and the Kazekage. _Uncle...Gaara_. Was that man really his mother's brother, and related to him?

Shikadai really did live a very normal, typical ninja life. But sometimes it did go slightly off course, and it seemed that wherever awry things happened, the traces led back to something to do with his mother.

Sometimes he would forget. It was easy to forget. Sure she was scary but lots of mothers and other women were scary, like Inojin's mom. But there was more to Shikadai's own mother than that.

She was one of the Honored Siblings of Sunagakure and the most respected and revered kunoichi of her country. She was one of the best jounin in the world, and hands down the best Wind Release user. _And she was Shikadai's mother!_

She was Temari of the Sand.

* * *

Shikamaru Nara was the characteristic lazy, smart, whipped-by-women Nara, but he had outdone them all by marrying the Temari of the Sand.

Not that Temari wasn't the type of woman many Naras were famed to be attracted to. She was the perfect package: pushy, stubborn, violent, loud, troublesome, you name it...

Still, it was uncommon for Naras, or any Konoha shinobi, for that matter, to marry foreigners, and especially not foreigners who were also shinobi loyal to their own village, and _especially_ not a foreigner who was practically a princess in her home country.

Time and the welcoming arms of Temari's Konoha friends had assimilated her into Konoha life. She was a regular of the village, loved, and treated with respect. First and foremost, however, she was still a Suna shinobi.

Due to the nearly unbreakable alliance between Suna and Konoha, being a Sand shinobi living in Konoha was nearly synonymous to being an actual Leaf shinobi. Officially, Temari was a permanent Sand ambassador in the Leaf, and technically, and she would have to return to Suna at once if her Kazekage so desired. However, since the Kazekage was her brother, there was little chance of that horrible scenario where she was separated from her family forever. The Kazekage had authorized the Hokage to assign missions to his "Suna ambassador", so Temari continued the shinobi life carrying out Leaf missions. Once in a while, though, a messenger bird would arrive from the Wind Country with a mission scroll specifically for Temari, and no one else.

Temari was a desert child, and therefore very adaptable; she had grown to fit in so well with Konoha life that Shikadai seldom gave her Suna identity a second thought, but sometimes he would be given a startling reminder. He thought of his mother's friends Hakuto and Shigezane, a couple that had moved to Konoha from the Wind Country for reasons unknown to him. Shikadai wasn't sure how, but the way Temari interacted with them was different from the way she interacted with, say, Aunt Ino or Uncle Chouji. The couple humbled themselves before her and always referred to her as "Lady Temari", while Temari herself would seem relaxed and content talking to them, sometimes even a little proud (at least, more than _usual_ ); their conversations could last hours.

Then, of course, there were Shikadai's uncles. Having uncles was not unusual, of course, but siblings among shinobi were a little less commonplace, and Shikadai's mother had no less than two. Not to mention that together, the three formed the infamous ninja trio the Sand Siblings, one of whom was the Kazekage. Shikadai still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that his mother and uncles were truly so legendary and powerful, so mind-blowing as it was.

Gaara had only ever visited Konoha for diplomatic reasons, and Shikadai frequently had to remind himself that behind the fancy words of "the Lord Kazekage and his entourage were arriving in Konoha", what it really meant for him was that Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankuro coming over. It wouldn't do for the Kazekage to be staying with the Nara Clan, so his uncles were always officially accommodated in the foreign dignitaries' guest rooms. Nevertheless, every minute not spent in a meeting Gaara and Kankuro spent at Shikadai's house, and Shikadai remembered witnessing the Three Siblings of the Sand, reunited once more, speaking amongst themselves not only as siblings but also as children of the desert, and as shinobi of Sunagakure; he could feel the strong bonds of love and home between them, and couldn't help but feel sad that he wasn't truly able to understand them, that he didn't belong, that he wasn't one of them.

Still, Shikadai was very fond of his uncles, and they clearly returned the sentiment. They were in many ways like any normal uncles any kid could have, and yet they were also anything _but_ normal. They always managed to surprise him, something everyone else in his life as of yet had failed to do.

His Uncle Kankuro, the middle Sand Sibling, was quite the wild one. Shikadai was often left wondering who was more of a kid: himself or the war paint, hood-donning, black-clad Suna jounin. He was immensely proud and confident, not one to take insults lightly, and rather mischievous in nature; Shikadai found it odd that unlike other adults, Uncle Kankuro actually _encouraged_ him to be rebellious, despite the irony that he was a fiercely loyal shinobi. Uncle Kankuro seldom lectured him on what he had to do become a better shinobi, or instruct him to do to this or that in any situation. While he _did_ encourage Shikadai to become a strong ninja, he seemed confident that his nephew would grow up to be a great one, and often reminded Shikadai that even though he was a shinobi, he was still a kid and should have fun sometimes. And yet, unlike other adults who sometimes looked down to him _because_ he was a kid, Uncle Kankuro always treated him as an equal.

Every time they saw each other, Shikadai could trust Uncle Kankuro to bring him odd gifts that seemed incredulous at first but held some kind of deeper meaning behind them. He remembered receiving a hand carved wooden box (undoubtedly his uncle's own handiwork), and opening it to find it filled to the brim with...eyeballs?!

Shikadai had been startled at first; they looked so real! But then his uncle clutched his stomach and started chortling loudly. "Ha! You should have seen your face! I should have known that would happen and brought a camera. Dude, it was priceless!" Shikadai received a harsh clap on the back in return for his small pout. "Don't worry, I'm a puppet master! I can make realistic body parts out of synthetic materials. And these...this is just to say that, even though we're so far away, we're always watchin' over ya, okay kid?"

However, a particular puppet was by far Shikadai's favorite present. He chuckled to himself at the memory of receiving that particular gift:

 _"Psst, hey Shikadai, over here," Kankuro waved him over from another room._

 _" 'Sup Uncle Kankuro?"_

 _"Shh! Keep it down! Now get your butt over here, I wanted to give you something!"_

 _"What is it?"_

 _Kankuro fiddled through his robes for a few seconds, before pulling out a hastily wrapped package and handing it to Shikadai, who opened it to almost choke on his own spit._

 _It was very lifelike miniature puppet of his own MOTHER._

 _The scary smile was so accurate that a shiver coursed through Shikadai's body._

 _"This is 'cuz your mom's such a crazy bitch, and I totally feel for ya, kid. Unlike the real one, this bitch can't really yell or hit you so you can vent at it all you want. I'm tellin' ya, you're going to need it for some major stress relief, living with a woman like Temari," Kankuro said, "and I don't want you to become some whipped emotional wreck the next time I see you."_

 _Shikadai hadn't yet gotten over his shock. "It's—it's so real!"_

 _Kankuro scratched the back of his hood sheepishly. "Yeah, er—that's because I've had a lot of practice making this particular model." Shikadai looked at him incredulously. "Come on, Shikadai, having a sister like that, you can't blame me! I went through hundreds of these just to vent my pent-up emotions! Just let me know when you need a replacement, okay? And don't ever let your mother see this—I have hopes of living to an old age."_

 _Needless to say, the present became Shikadai's most-utilized possession._

With a sigh, Shikadai decided it was time to stop beating around the bush. He began contemplating his other uncle. Gaara.

His relationship with the redhead was still much of a mystery to him, unlike with Kankuro's, whom he was easily able to accept as his uncle and as part of his family. Even with Shikadai's impressive intellect, he often felt confused in regard to the youngest Sand Sibling.

Shikadai doubted anyone would argue that Gaara wasn't an enigma. Shikadai himself couldn't believe how different the Kazekage was from the other two rather rambunctious Sand Siblings. Gaara was always quiet, calm, and serious: despite his wordlessness, his mere presence itself demanded respect, and he emitted a powerful aura. Shikadai had never seen a more unchanging, yet intimidating face than the Kazekage's tattooed one; his most exercised facial muscles were probably his eyes', and a simple movement of those ringed orbs could easily unnerve anyone. His body language was no better; he always had his arms crossed tightly before his chest, and even while fighting Gaara would look like a statue standing amidst a furious sandstorm. He only spoke when absolutely necessary, and when he did so his words were compelling, truthful, and scarily straightforward, as he found no need to "sugar up" anything he said for the sake of politics—or anything else.

Shikadai sometimes wondered if Gaara's emotions had been sucked out of him somehow and fed into his own mother Temari and Uncle Kankuro, but even those two's well displayed emotions were not enough to make up for the Kazekage's lack thereof. He seemed to have a the frightening ability to remain indifferent to every situation; Shikadai wouldn't be surprised if something exploded in Gaara's face only to receive not even a blink or change in breathing as a response. Shikadai didn't knowhow Gaara did it, but the atmosphere of a room with the Kazekage in always seemed grave and severe.

Of course, not just Shikadai, but everybody in perhaps the entire shinobi world knew all of those above things, and those characteristics seemed never to fail to apply when it came to Sunagakure's leader. However, things were possibly different when Gaara was at Shikadai's home, being his uncle. _But Uncle Gaara and the Kazekage—they're the same thing!_ Shikadai protested in his head.

...

 ** _Sometimes it's hard to believe the Kazekage is my uncle:_**

Shikadai recalled Boruto ranting once about how Naruto Uzumaki had instructed his son to call him "Seventh", rather than "Dad". It was odd coming from the man he knew as Lord Seventh, or informally as "Uncle Naruto", considering how the easygoing and friendly the man was. On the other hand, people were always reminding Shikadai to treat the Kazekage with proper respect—not only was he a cold, isolated, and antisocial man, but he was the cold, isolated, and antisocial leader of another country—and yet it was the same Kazekage himself that disregarded such instructions the most.

 _"Ah!...Uncle Gaara...I didn't know you were stopping by..."_

 _"Welcome back. Looks like you've grown again."_

 _A guy like the Kazekage actually notices how much I've grown?! Shikadai thought. " 'Sup."_

 _"Shikadai, what kind of greeting is that? Greet him properly!"_

 _In response, a small quirk of the lips graced the Kazekage's usual stony countenance, although as quickly as it appeared it vanished._

 _"Where's Uncle Kankuro?"_

 _"Gaara, we should be getting on our way," said the man in question._

 _Wordlessly, Gaara stood up and strode towards the door, his sand gourd disintegrating and reforming on his back. However, just as he was about to exit, he stopped._

 _Without turning around to address her, Gaara monotoned, "Temari, your greeting to Shikadai was less than adequate. You should greet him properly."_

 _Before Temari had the chance to register what her youngest brother had just told her, Gaara and Kankuro were gone, though she soon turned red with anger at her little brother's insolence and mockery._

Then there was that one occasion where Shikadai forewent his normal nonchalant self to actually follow instructions.

 _"Oh, hey...Lord Kazekage."_

 _Gaara was not facing him, but even from where he stood, Shikadai could see a rare something flash across Gaara's eyes. Something akin to...disappointment? Hurt?_

 _He thought for sure he had to be dreaming it; this was Uncle_ _ **Gaara**_ _he was talking about, of course he hadn't—_

 _The head of red hair remained still, but sea-foam green eyes moved eerily to the side to regard Shikadai with an unreadable expression. His tone was curt. "Greetings to you as well._ _ **Nephew.**_ _"_

That was the one time Shikadai had earnestly followed protocol and shown even a trace of proper respect for his superiors. His mother would be proud; hadn't he "greeted him properly"? Yet that was the one time he felt ashamed.

...

 **Other times, it's hard to believe that Uncle Gaara is the Kazekage:**

Shikadai could tolerate most of the adults in his life to a certain level, though when it came down to it, they were all troublesome to be around. The Hokage was too animated, Hinata Hyuga was too shy, Sakura Haruno was too temperamental, Kiba Inuzuka was too, for lack of a better word, animalistic, Shino Aburame was too mysterious, TenTen was too witty, Choji Akimichi was too food-obsessed, Ino Yamanaka was too much of a gossiping drama-queen, Sai was too blunt, and Rock Lee was—he couldn't even find a proper word to describe the green-clad monstrosity. Shikadai had never met him very many times, but according to Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha was a "brooding asshole". Shikadai's own father sighed too much, and his mother was the very definition of troublesome.

Something about Uncle Gaara put him apart from the rest of them. On the outside, he seemed stoic, straightforward, and intimidating, and to even the most audacious of shinobi, the thought of spending time with him alone in a room— _his pale green eyes boring through your soul_ —was probably labeled with giant flashing lights and a huge TROUBLESOME.

"Must be awkward," more than one person had quipped to Shikadai about spending time with Gaara, and even more said, "Must be scary."

Shikadai steeled himself for the inevitable troublesome every time he saw Uncle Gaara, only to find that—

He _wasn't_ that troublesome to be around.

He didn't deafen you by yelling into your ear, he didn't sweep you into annoying bone-crushing hugs, he didn't deliberately tease or embarrass you in front of your friends, he didn't have any weird obsessions, he didn't lecture you, he didn't nag, he didn't force you to train, he didn't hit you, he didn't pry into the details of your life that you had no intention of revealing.

Uncle Gaara was the type of person who could be content with being in the mere presence of a precious person. With him, words sometimes became a hindrance between the bonds of two people, since actions spoke louder than words, and love was felt, not spoken.

There was once an occasion where Shikadai, not yet a genin at the time, was sitting in his living room doing his academy homework.

 _"So troublesome..." he heaved, doodling clouds onto a corner of his paper._

 _Gaara chose this moment to walk in on a slumped over, half-asleep Shikadai who was drooling over his homework._

 _Shikadai shot up from his sluggish posture, a bit embarrassed. Strange. He never felt embarrassed when anyone else walked in on him snoring on his homework._

 _Gaara, however, seemed not to have noticed. Silently, he placed a paper bag on the table._

 _"Snacks," he said simply, promptly opening the bag and beginning to nibble on a handful of chestnuts. They were one of his mother's favorite foods and Shikadai had inherited a liking for them as well. Whether or not Uncle Gaara himself actually liked them, Shikadai had no idea, but could tell from his uncle's modest gestures that this was an invitation._

 _He shoved his homework aside and indulged himself in the sweetness of the chestnuts on his tongue and the comfortable presence of the man sitting across from him._

 _The two continued to eat in tranquility, allowing the song of the birds outside to fill the room with music. Shikadai had never noticed before what beautiful sounds the birds could make, since they were overshadowed by the many other loud sounds in his life, whether in his head or outside of it. Uncle Gaara's presence seemed to wash away the noise. There was no awkwardness, nor fear._

 _Speaking of his uncle, he was looking at Shikadai intently, pale green eyes fixated on teal. Those ringed eyes were infamous for instilling fear, unease, or discomfort in many a shinobi, but Shikadai searched them and found no trace of any of those things. Uncle Gaara's eyes, like the rest of his face, were hard to read, but were still better at emoting than any other part of him. And was it possible...that they were showing affection?_

 _"Creepy!" Chouchou's animated voice echoed inside Shikadai's head. "He's just staring at you!"_

 _But between Gaara and Shikadai, they were simply looking at each other because they were the other's precious person. Indulging in the sight of someone they loved._

 _Sometime later, the chestnuts dwindled in number and the paper bag Gaara became empty, and Shikadai continued with his homework while Gaara read a book and occasionally did some Kage paperwork. No need to waste each other's time talking when they could simply be together. The scratching of pencil on paper and the ruffling of the pages of Gaara's book replaced words between the two in the room._

 _When Gaara stood up, Shikadai knew it was to leave. The imminent departure of his uncle's presence brought troublesome thoughts and unease slowly trickling back into his mind._

 _"Rest is recommended to renew and replenish the mind and body, even for shinobi," Gaara said as a goodbye, then walked out of the room._

 _Shikadai was left alone, and the tranquility in the room turned to eerie silence. His head snapped down to the pile of papers he had been working on for the past few hours, and the voice in his head was thundering:_

 _"My Academy homework! It's all finished! Did I really just finish all of that—without even thinking 'troublesome' once?!_

 _"Did Uncle Gaara actually just tell me that I should sleep?_

 _"Did I really just spend a relaxing afternoon doing homework with the_ Kazekage _?_

 _"..."_

Shikadai's reminiscence ended, although his thoughts both then and now echoed, "Troublesome."

He suddenly became aware that while his mind had been floating around in flashbacks of his mundane life, he was physically still lying on his back on a bed of grass, squinting at the clouds, though the sky had grown considerably darker.

 _Lucky clouds_ , he thought.

And he, the infamously intelligent analytic puzzle-solving Shikadai Nara, was nowhere closer to solving the mystery that was his Uncle Gaara.

Gaara—the man who was always straightforward, never beat around the bush, never deliberately tried to hide anything from anybody—probably had more secrets than any shinobi in the entire world.

"This is stupid. Why I am thinking about this? I want to _sleep_ ," he huffed, rolling over to his side and squeezing his eyes shut, willing everything troublesome to go away.

A sharp blade of grass scratched uncomfortably at his leg every time he breathed, causing a mild itch.

 _Forget it. I'm too lazy to move._

A draft blew over his reclining form, and he shivered slightly, wondering when it had started getting chilly on the hill this afternoon.

 _Whatever. It's not that bad._

He opened his eyes to meet a small ant crawling slowly towards his nose. Ten more seconds, he calculated, and the insect would make his face its territory. Five more seconds. Four seconds. Three, two—

"Ahhhh—fuck this," Shikadai spat, getting to his feet with annoyance. If rest meant the "renewal of the mind and body", he wasn't going to get any of it like this.

Taking particular care to grind and trample the grass beneath his feet due to his "troublesome" mood, Shikadai stalked down the hill, with a particular person as his destination in mind.

* * *

It was no surprise that Shikadai had heard plenty of stories about the 4th Great Shinobi War, since he lived in a village full of its veterans, his parents included. At school, they learned the boring, technical, and literal version of the events, and keeping the account devoid of emotion or opinion was a job well done by Aburame-sensei. There he had learned that the Kazekage, at the time only a teenager and a few years older than Shikadai now, had been the Allied Shinobi Forces' Regimental Commander, higher in rank than even Konohagakure's own eventual Sixth Hokage, Kakashi Hatake.

Whatever detached account of history Aburame-sensei had put into his students' head was promptly tainted the moment they stepped out the Academy doors and into the world of gossip and broiling war stories by veterans eager to make the individual heated battles they and their comrades fought known. Shikadai was sure by now that he'd heard every Konoha shinobi's little snippet of the war.

Stories of the Konoha 12 were especially popular, and those shinobi had been elevated to elite hero status, since they had played a huge part in the fighting and included the Hokage himself and his best friends. Shikamaru Nara, Shikadai's father, was of course one of them, and the rest of them Shikadai knew comfortably enough to call his "aunties" and "uncles".

His real uncle was rarely spoken of.

At first, Shikadai just assumed that the people of Konoha simply had little to talk about Uncle Gaara since he was a foreigner. However, Shikadai's sharp observation skills soon caught up with those assumptions, and he started finding it strange that there was so little to say about the Kazekage, who was no less than the War's 4th Division Leader and Regimental Commander: plenty of Konoha ninja had served in his 4th Division and practically the entire Allied Shinobi Forces had been led by him. Additionally, from what he'd heard, Konoha and Suna's tightly-knit and very crucial alliance was very much due to him, and that went back way before the start of the War. Even so, mention of Sabaku no Gaara was limited to general respect or courteous politeness, fond admiration by some, but what was his history? What kind of life had he had? What kind of the battles had he fought in the War? Shikadai had no idea.

It would've been possible for Shikadai to dismiss these small peculiarities, if it hadn't been for the fact that the adults close to him in his life, namely Konoha 12—all of whom were Naruto's good friends (aside from Naruto himself, of course) and should de facto be at least well-acquainted with Gaara, if not good friends with him—seemed to talk very seldom of the well-known man. They seemed reluctant to use him as a subject of conversation to begin with, and when he _was_ brought up, they seemed to subtly, but deliberately, veer the topic off course. It had always been too troublesome for Shikadai to become curious enough to ask about, so he didn't.

Shikadai had been standing idly in the training grounds for a while now, though, as usual, he had no intention of training. But he knew his "efforts" had not been in vain, and that the person he was looking for would come to him.

True to his prediction, Rock Lee and his son Metal Lee, dressed in their signature jumpsuits, began jogging up to him. Shikadai wondered why their green outfits stuck out like sore thumbs amidst Konoha's forests.

This probably was their 216th lap around the village, and Shikadai knew that even if he had missed them the first 216 times, he would probably catch them on their inevitable 217th. Or 218th. Or 500th. Or 1000th.

Seeing Shikadai _in_ the training grounds without having had his ass dragged to it was enough of a spectacle to make even the youthful monsters pause their marathon. Even if Shikadai wasn't training.

They were still a couple of tens of feet away, but Shikadai had already cupped his hands firmly over his ears.

"SHIKADAIIIII!" My youthful friend! Have you decided to join our training this youthful afternoon!?" exclaimed the miniature green monster with no hidden amount of excitement.

 _How can he be so happy about working his ass off like that? I'd rather die._

"Heya, Lee, and Uncle...Lee." Shikadai scratched the back of his head awkwardly and threw the father and son a lazy smile. It was bad enough that they both went by Lee, but then throw in the factor that they were practically carbon copies of each other. "And, uh, heh heh heh, but I can't join you. My...uh...mom wants me home soon and I can't go against her word." A blatant lie, but fortunately, the Lees never looked too deeply into things. _No way in hell am I joining them._

"Ah, of course!" shouted the larger of the two green monsters. Rock Lee punched the air. "Temari has always been a woman full of fiery youth! It is most admirable!

"But what brings you here today, my youthful friend?! It is such a beautiful afternoon, do you feel it burning with youthful passion?!"

Shikadai sighed. The word "youth" was seriously overrated when it came to these two. Of course, it wasn't his place to say, since the same went for him and the word "troublesome".

"Oh, nothing much, really. Just had some stuff to ask you, Uncle Lee."

Metal Lee took this as his queue to continue his self-inflicted torture, yelling loudly, "I will continue the challenge of running 500 laps around the village, Dad! I will run so fast that you shall not catch up to me! And if you catch up to me, I will run 1000 laps around the village at twice the speed!"

 _Is that scientifically possible?_

"Tttttthat's my boy! You shine with the power of YOUTH!" Rock Lee flashed his lookalike of a son a toothy smile paired with a bold thumbs-up.

Metal Lee ran backwards for a few moments to return it to his father.

Shikadai nearly deadpanned.

Lee turned to him. "All right, Shikadai! Fire away your youthful questions and I will answer to the best of my ability! And if I am unable to answer to the best of my ability, I shall—"

Shikadai cut him off. "Yeah, well, um—I just...wanted to ask you about Uncle Gaara."

 _Damnit._ Shikadai slapped himself in his head. So much for being subtle or beating around the bush. He again used the fact that Lees never looked to deeply into things to his advantage. It was, after all, one of the reasons he had decided to approach Rock Lee on the subject, rather than any of the other adults he knew.

Rock Lee had, more than once, declared the Fifth Kazekage of Suna his "eternal rival". Such a term was not used lightly by the likes of Lee. And neither was Lee the type to randomly name extraordinarily powerful shinobi his rival. Shikadai knew there had to be some history behind this, although he didn't know anything about it.

"Ah, the Kazekage! And what would you like to know, Shikadai?"

Shikadai again scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, just anything, really. I barely know anything now. He's coming soon for the Five Kage Summit next week, and I—I just want to know him better," he admitted.

"Ah, what a youthful endeavor!" Rock Lee gave the young Nara a thumbs-up, and did not appear offended when there was no response to it. "Let us see...I know that your uncle is an incredibly gifted and powerful shinobi! He is nothing short of a genius! His techniques are my Hidden Lotus's greatest weakness!" _So they've fought before. I wonder what were the circumstances._ Shikadai thought. Then surprise washed over him. _The Hidden Lotus? I thought that technique nearly killed Madara Uchiha!_

"And even more, despite his difficulty of the past he burdens, he has a great heart! He is truly an exceptional human being! It is my privilege to call him my rival!"

Shikadai's heart would have swelled a little at such praise being directed towards his uncle, had he not been stopped short by Lee's words. "Difficult...past?"

Lee, unfortunately, appeared not to have heard him. "I did not serve under his Division during the War, although I hear that he led the 4th Division with great success!" _Until they all died_ , Shikadai thought bitterly. He knew that Madara Uchiha had killed most of the 4th Division, and in no way did Shikadai hold Uncle Gaara responsible for those deaths. He did feel that it was an extremely unfortunate tragedy that Gaara's troops had to be the one to face the virtually indestructible Uchiha, though.

"Although while the Allied Shinobi Forces were fighting Madara Uchiha, I was sent to guard your uncle! It was an honor!"

Shikadai filed that piece of information for later. "What did you mean...about the difficulty of the past he burdens?"

A serious glint came to Lee's round eyes, and it was the first time Shikadai saw them as anything other than "obsessed with youth" or "comical".

His voice had grown much softer and more solemn when he next spoke. Shikadai though he saw nostalgia in his eyes. "That...as much as I admire your youthful curiostiy, Shikadai, I cannot deny that such things are not my place to say! If you do not know them, then I believe there is a reason! I am sure you will find out in due time, when the time is right!"

Shikadai's jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. So much for satisfying his curiosity. Now his Uncle Gaara was wrapped even tighter within a whole new mystery.

Characteristic joviality returned to Lee. "I apologize, but I must get going, Shikadai! Metal Lee awaits ahead and I must catch up to him to shine with youth! I hope I have answered your questions!"

Shikadai was already lost in his thoughts, so he barely gave notice to the thumbs-up he was subject to witnessing for the third time that day. Lee ran off at unbelievable speed, leaving Shikadai in a literal cloud of dust.

 _The difficulty of the past he burdens..._

He was playing a game of shougi, and the opponent held the secrets to his uncle's mysteries. Never yet had Shikadai played against such a difficult hand. And now, despite not having lost any pieces, his opponent had just gained a few, trapping Shikadai even further in his confusion.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to walk home. A small smirk made its way to his lips. _The opponent's gained new pieces, huh? That just means I'll have more to work with._

The next Five Kage Summit was next week. Shikadai would make his move then.

He was determined to get deeper into the sand his uncle was buried under so many thick layers of. Even if he could only manage a few grains.

"Troublesome..."


	3. Chapter 2: The First Grains

**Author's Note: Greetings to my fellow travellers of the cyberspace! I invite you to give a visit to "Identity of Love and Sand", a touching and enthralling story about the Kazekage and his nephew. Admission is absolutely free, although the suggested entrance fee is a review!**

 **Okay, okay. All formality aside (huh, that ^ was formality?), I apologize for the long wait I imposed on you for this third chapter. School and homework do not do kindly to the writers of fanfiction. On the bright side, whatever ingenious writing skills I have been learning in English class, I am using to write this story. Let's call it a win-win situation. :)**

 **Don't call me a stuck-up brat obsessed with my own work when I say I like this chapter. Because I do. Though it was one _hell_ of a ride writing it...I make Shikadai too smart for his own good. And Gaara's a closed book even to me.**

 **P.S. I know Gaara doesn't carry his sand gourd in the epilogue, but I like the sand gourd. So in my story, it stays.**

Chapter 3—The First Grains

"Three...

"Two...

"One...

"...

"GOOOOO!"

 _And the bloodbath began._

Sighing and saying "How troublesome" was too troublesome for the current situation, so Shikadai opted to roll his eyes as he immediately flash-stepped out of view, into the thick trees, where he was the king and the shadows were his armed guards.

Every once in a while, the Konoha 12 parents would congregate all their children together to train, for the purposes of "having the younger generation strengthen their bonds of friendship and love by helping each other become better shinobi".

How noble this would have sounded if the parents in question had not treated those sparring matches like a rivalry settlements, or more often than not, reality shows.

 _"Hey! I bet my kid could beat yours!"_

 _"Have fun dreaming. That'll never happen!"_

 _"Hey, bet you five bucks the Uzumaki wins."_

 _"Nah, the Hokage's brat is good but way too thickheaded. Ten bucks the Uchiha wins!"_

 _"You're on!"_

The training grounds they were currently using was a flat, grassy clearing circular in shape and about 250 feet in diameter. Thick trees served as a boundary for three quarters of the circle, while the rest of it was bordered by a fence that had obviously been hastily constructed. It had been constructed soon after Konoha 12 children began using this particular area for training to allow their parents to stand on the other side to spectate. It was a short fence that even an elementary shinobi could hop over, easily; _still_ , Shikadai thought, _it gives the impression that we're caged animals in put in an arena to fight to the death_.

 _I like my friends and all...but sometimes they take training so seriously I think they really want to kill each other...damn...troublesome..._

On some days, they would spar one another in groups so as to work on their teamwork. Shikadai didn't mind this _so_ much, because he was used to fighting with Inojin and Chouchou as Team Ino-Shika-Cho, and because he would only have to put forth a third of his effort when he fought in a group with three.

Today was one of the days Shikadai _did_ mind, quite a lot. It was the _you're-on-your-own-and-everybody-else-is-the-enemy_ training day. _Annoying pride_ , Shikadai thought, _everyone wants to prove that they're the best here! I don't give a damn. I can be in last place for all I care...I just want to sleep...oh well, forget that idea. Might as well do this..._

Shikadai crouched in the shadows of the tree branch he was perched on, not realizing himself that he was watching his brawling friends in a manner a predator would prey. He never had been the predatory type.

He thanked whatever greater power there was that there was no Byagukan user in his cohort. His hiding spot in the thick trees would have been as useful as ducking behind a potted plant against the all-seeing dojutsu. Aunt Hinata (who was standing on the sidelines with Aunt Ino, Uncle Sai, Uncle Chouji, Aunt Karui, Aunt Sakura, Uncle Lee, Aunt Tenten, Uncle Kiba, and Aburame-sensei; Shikadai's parents had both received last minute business for the day and could not attend) could probably see him right now, but she was the last member of the audience who would rat anybody out, so he had no worries.

Of course, Sarada and her ability to see chakra with her Sharingan would have been threat if she were not so busy fighting her rival and teammate, Boruto.

"SARADAAAAA!" the blonde shinobi had hollered the moment the match had started, disregarding all his other friends in favor of the Uchiha. "YOU're the one I want to fight!"

Sarada had rolled her eyes at Boruto's antics but apparently shared similar sentiments, seeing as she immediately engaged with him. The rest of them knew better than to butt in to their personal scuffle.

"You and your father...you're good when it comes to running away," Temari often once told her son. _Thanks to you, scary woman_...Shikadai had thought. _Why else would I need to run away if it wasn't to escape from my own mother?_

From his shadowy refuge, Shikadai silently thanked his mother for inadvertently helping him master the art of escaping sticky situations. He otherwise probably wouldn't have been able to get away from the training brawl so quickly after it started without being in caught in a fight himself.

Of course, part of his successful escape from the scene also stemmed from the fact that his comrades were accustomed to him skipping out on training to go watch clouds. Even if he had stayed (usually having been forced to), he wouldn't have given the effort to fight anyway. To others, it was a waste of energy fighting Shikadai if all he was going to do was forfeit.

 _Well, I guess they're in for a little surprise this time_...Shikadai thought, _though I won't deny this is troublesome. Why am I even going to such lengths...?_

He thought inexplicably of the Five Kage Summit arriving in three days.

* * *

 _The preparation is complete, and the pieces are in position._

"Kage bunshin no jutsu!" Shikadai heard, coming from about fifty feet away in the direction of two o'clock.

Sarada bounded behind a tree to avoid the onslaught of Borutos before reappearing for a counterattack. "Fire style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"

 _Good. They're staying near the trees. Now, Boruto, Sarada, just stay right where you are..._

Shikadai himself was hiding at the base of a tree. He was in its shadow, while on the other side, only a few feet away from him, too distracted to notice his presence, was Mitsuki, his back to the same tree, battling Inojin to his right and Chouchou to his left a three-way hand-to-hand combat. Mitsuki's taijutsu, paired with his Soft Physique Modification technique, was too fast for either Inojin or Chouchou to start using ninjutsu. Inojin skillfully blocked Mitsuki's moves with his sword, while Chouchou defended herself with kunai.

She responded too late, however, when Mitsuki wrapped an elongated arm around a torso and threw her a good fifty feet away.

 _Now Chouchou's at eleven o'clock. Good._

Now with one less opponent to deal with, Mitsuki smirked as he faced Inojin, whose face was set in a grimace. He and Chouchou had technically been enemies this time round, but she had helped him in dealing with the common and more dangerous enemy that was Mitsuki. Now he was on his own.

As they exchanged blows, Mitsuki slowly started to gain the upper hand, and his back slowly left the tree, while Inojin slowly began stepping backwards in recession.

In the distance, Chouchou was clambered up, dusted herself off, and began a series of hand signs in what Shikadai recognized to be the Akimichi Clan's Human Boulder Jutsu.

 _Now, it's my turn!_

"Shadow Clutch Technique!" Shikadai murmured as quietly as possible, roping a tendril of shadow securely around a moderately sized stone. With determined concentration, he subtly maneuvered the shadow, shifting the stone into position right behind Inojin's foot.

 _Clang!_ —Mitsuki's kunai struck another blow with Inojin's sword; the Yamanaka tried to steady his foothold by taking another step backward—

" _Oof!_ "—falling straight into Shikadai's trap as his foot collided with the stone Shikadai had set there. No one could really blame him for tripping on a rock that hadn't been there seconds earlier.

Inojin slipped and fell right onto his back, and Mitsuki froze in a moment of bewilderment as his opponent fell to the ground without premonition.

In the distance, a giant boulder was charging straight at them. _That's Chouchou. I have about fifteen seconds before collision._

In a swift movement, Shikadai hurled a kunai at Inojin's sprawled form, the sharp edge missing Inojin's neck by a few centimeters, ignoring the gaping "O" that was Inojin's mouth. Despite everything, no one _really_ wanted anyone else to face any casualties during these sparring matches, so sometimes they simply had to "simulate" dying situations.

"Inojin! You have been youthfully defeated! You are now out!" Rock Lee boomed.

Hadn't Shikadai had his hands full, he would have loved to see the pout decorating Aunt Ino's face.

"Shadow Possession Jutsu!" The unexpected turn of events rendered a still distracted Mitsuki, who, one second later, found his body flailing about without his own command. He gave a strangled cry as he thrust his own arms in the air above his head before immobilizing himself by pinning his long sleeves into the tree trunk behind him.

"Mitsuki!" Rock Lee's voice carried over once more. "You have been immobilized! You are out!"

Even if Chouchou had realized that the two opponents, Inojin and Mitsuki, she had intended to attempt to pummel into the ground had spontaneously been ousted, it was too late for her to change her course. She was a rolling boulder barreling her way in their direction; the momentum she had built up wasn't about to stop, and she five seconds away from collision.

It wasn't too late for Shikadai.

"Shadow Clutch Technique!" Shikadai performed the third shadow jutsu for the past one minute. This time, he made care to thrust a large amount of chakra into his technique, and his heart pounded loudly in his ears from nervousness and anticipation. Manipulating Chouchou in her Human Boulder form was something Shikadai had only just started practicing in his Ino-Shika-Cho formation training sessions to prepare for the Human Yo-Yo formation in the future. He knew it was an advanced technique in an advanced form, but Shikadai wasn't called a prodigy for nothing.

Boruto and Sarada had, in their own frenzy, turned a blind eye on the scuffle between their other comrades occurring behind them. For the two of them, nothing was more important than fighting the other, and they did not want to, could not afford to, pay any attention to the surrounding battles. Therefore, the knowledge that two of their teammates had already been kicked out of the match mattered little to them; so engrossed were they, that it did not come off as a mystery that two of their best had been ousted first. The sound of a rolling human boulder, dangerously crushing the dirt and grass beneath it through its path, was no concern of theirs. It would soon crash, and the pandemonium it would cause to the others would have little to no effect on them.

It was ironic to think that the _lack_ of a loud collision was what finally made Boruto's and Sarada's heads turn in distraction. Judging by the direction Chouchou had been heading, she should have hit _something_ by now.

Shikadai panted with exertion as he veered the Human Boulder off course and forced it—or her, considering this was _Chouchou_ after all, who was now unable to revert to her original form now that she had been trapped by Shikadai's shadow—to head towards Boruto and Sarada at full speed. At last, the Uzumaki and Uchiha halted in exchanging blows at one another, remembering that they were not the only ones in this fight. Shikadai watched with a vague sense of satisfaction, as their eyes widened and mouths dropped open at the imminent—and unexpected—danger.

The two of them managed to jump out of Chouchou's way just in time, leaping backwards in opposite directions, away from each other, and pressing their backs safely against the trunk of tree.

 _Just as expected._

Chouchou's rolling form continued charging on, full speed, without abandon, until—

 _CRASHHHHHHHHHH_

-she hit the trees at the other end of the training field with full force.

In the part of his mind that still had a conscience, Shikadai apologized to Chouchou for deliberately making her smash into the trees at full force.

The tree into which Chouchou teetered; several loud snapping sounds could be heard before it finally started its dangerous descent to the ground; still, it was too far away for its fall to do any damage to anyone. The audience and trainees alike stood rooted to the spot, as if entranced by the sight of the tree's broken and falling trunk.

Then, Sarada looked up with her Sharingan and her mouth fell open—"Wait—" she cried—

Too late.

 _Checkmate._

Boruto and Sarada both cried out as the very trees they were leaning against—for safety—made a loud " _Snap!_ ", lost their initial sturdiness, and started crashing down at them as if to crush them.

 _CRASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_

* * *

Debris clouded the air as the two trees crashed to the ground, and leaves from the fallen not one, but three, fallen trees, flew about in a wild torrent.

The dust cleared away to show that Aunt Sakura had jumped in to scoop her daughter into her arms and away from the tree that surely would have flattened her. "Mom!" Sarada cried in surprise, looking up at her mother, before withdrawing into herself and mumbling, "Thanks. Can you put me down now?"

Boruto was pinned under a tree branch. His legs were the only part of him visible, but judging by the way they flailed, and his muffled yet still noisy shouts, he was okay. Shikadai glanced at Aunt Hinata; she giggled, but made no move to help her son.

 _Well, she has the Byagukan. She'd know better than anyone if he were okay._

Shikadai had long ago released Chouchou from his Shadow Clutch, but her huge round form at the other end of the training field, buried in a pile of tree trunks and branches, made no movement. She was probably knocked out cold. _Ouch_ , Shikadai thought. _Sorry, Chouchou_.

The settling silence was disturbed, yet again, by Rock Lee's booming voice. Gravity of situations never unnerved him, and that, in itself, was unnerving. "Chouchou! Boruto! Sarada! You put up youthful fight but have now been defeated! I now declare the three of you out!"

Rock Lee did not flinch at the prevailing silence that followed his little speech, but did follow everyone else's gazes at Shikadai.

Shikadai couldn't help his curling the corners of his own lips into a bold smirk. The explanation would be troublesome, but the looks on their faces were worth it. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Shinobi should never let their guard down. That was your first mistake.

"If you hadn't been too distracted by your own fights, you would have noticed that right after the match started one of your opponents—" here Shikadai pointed to himself—"went into hiding. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"But, you always disappear or hide during our training sessions, Shikadai!" Inojin protested, more out of awe than desire for an argument

Shikadai shrugged. "I guess that's why they say not to let your guard down, huh? Anyway, you lost the moment you decided not to do anything about it.

"I did actually have your Sharingan to worry about, Sarada. You might've seen me hopping around in the trees...but I guess Boruto took care of that problem for me by distracting you."

Sarada cast a glare at her currently disposed teammate, and even though he could not see her, trapped as he was, Boruto seemed to sense it, and his muffled hollers increased in volume.

"I guessed when I saw you two—" he gestured at Mitsuki and Inojin—"fighting with Chouchou, that sooner or later she would get tossed aside and that she would try to run over you with the Human Boulder jutsu. So when that _did_ happen, I just had to take the two of you out quickly, using the element of surprise to my advantage. Chouchou was already heading over mid-jutsu by the time you two were down, so she was in the range of my Shadow Clutch Technique. Then I just had to manipulate her towards you two—" this time, he gestured at Sarada and Boruto's...struggling form.

"The two of you have quick reflexes, so figured that even with Chouchou and the element of surprise at my disposal, attacking you head on would be pretty useless. You'd just jump out of the way. Which you did," Shikadai's smirk spread wider across his cheeks: "You see, I knew that I could've kept swinging Chouchou's Human Boulder form around to try to pummel you, but it would take too long and drain my chakra. Not to mention it'd be a drag. You'd just keep jumping out of the way. So I deliberately missed hitting you that first time, and drove Chouchou right into that tree. It wasn't a mistake," Shikadai pointed at the broken tree in the distance, at the foot of which lay a comatose Chouchou. Surprise flashed across their faces. "You see, while, I was out hiding and _no one noticed_ , I was observing Sarada's and Boruto's positions. I calculated the distance you would jump if I swung the Human Boulder your way, and decided that you'd probably land somewhere close to those trees that ended up falling on you." Sarada glanced surreptitiously at the fallen tree beside her. "I used wires to tie the trees together, so that when one the first one fell, the wires triggered these other to fall down with it." Shikadai's smirk finally spread fully across his face. "I had you nailed since the very beginning."

The atmosphere was filled with disbelief and awe at Shikadai's explanation. Casting a guilty look at her daughter (who was still unconscious), Karui muttered to her husband, "That kid of that best friend of yours...really is somethin' else, isn't he?"

Shikadai suddenly remembered something and turned to Sarada. "Hey Sarada," he drawled, scratching the back of his head, "I saw you look up at the last minute before the tree fell down...you noticed the wires, didn't you?"

Sarada blinked. "Wait, what—oh! Oh, no, I didn't, actually it was—"

"Your youthful display was certainly impressive, young Nara! However, now that we are the only two left in the match, what will you use at your dispense against Konoha's handsome green BEAST?!"

Shikadai's eyes snapped open, as did that of the rest of the spectators, and heads whipped around to locate the final member of the training match—who also happened to be the most eccentric? flamboyant? _youthful_? of the bunch—whom they had somehow forgotten about.

 _Metal Lee! How did I forget about him? Shit, I used up all my chakra earlier! Now I don't have anything left!_

Shikadai could only accept his fate as he eyed the rapidly-approaching green blur.

"You are a truly worthy opponent, Shikadai! After watching your performance, I am sure of it!"

Shikadai didn't even bother to put up his arms to defend himself from the imminent kick to the face. _That'd be too troublesome._ Doing so wouldn't do any good either; the Lees' punches and kicks were infamously powerful. _I suppose a broken nose is better than broken arms AND a broken nose. Damn, and here I was celebrating about winning this match without a scratch. This is gonna hurt, for sure._

 _I wonder what Uncle Gaara will say when he sees my messed up face. Whatever you plan on doing, Lee, I hope it'll go away in three days._

"Leaf Hurricane!"

 _SLAMMMMM_

* * *

When Shikadai opened his eyes, he saw nothing.

 _What is this?_

He blinked a couple of times. Still, nothing. No trees, no grassy green training field, no parents, no teammates, no Metal Lee—nothing. Just an empty, blank slate. Though he did not that the blank slate was, strangely, a pale color of earth.

Shikadai searched the depths of his mind for an explanation but drew up blank, just like his surroundings.

 _The hell?_

"What? Ah!" he heard Metal Lee's voice coming from...somewhere. It didn't sound far away, but not close, either. As if he were speaking through a wall or something.

Shikadai's blank, earth-colored world suddenly receded, as if unfolding itself. Green rushed back into his senses, and he saw Metal Lee on the ground at his feet.

Shikadai turned his head to the right, and crimson suddenly blinded his vision.

" _U-uncle Gaara_?"

"Hey! No greetings for old man Naruto? Eh, Shikadai? I know Gaara's pretty awesome...but come on! Don't play favorites with your uncles!"

Shikadai ignored the pouting Hokage in favor of staring into the depths of sea-foam green of the burgundy-clad man.

Everyone at the scene was deathly quiet, although Shikadai was sure that like his own, their minds were racing.

Everyone except for a blonde Hokage, a redhead Kazekage, and one Rock Lee.

"Gaara! My rival! Who is the meddlesome mother hen now, eh?"

 _Meddlesome mother hen_? Shikadai was bewildered.

A gravelly voice split the silence.

"Lee."

"Gaara! I never expected you to step in to fight, although I suppose it was youthful to defend your nephew! However, I assure you that Metal Lee was not about to inflict serious damage to—"

"I observed the entire match and I do not question the honorability of any of its participants, Metal Lee included," Gaara interrupted, narrowed eyes sweeping over the Shikadai and his teammates. "However, the results were already clear by the end your your son rushed in to attack Shikadai. I shielded Shikadai at the last moment to prevent him from receiving an unnecessary injury." Gaara turned to Naruto, who was standing beside him. "It will not do for Konoha to have wounded shinobi."

Shikadai's jaw could have fallen off. _So, that was—that was Uncle Gaara? He shielded me from Metal Lee's kick—with his sand!_

That explained the pale earth color he had woken up to.

But he had done it...for practical purposes?

"Besides," the icy cold voice cut in once again, "every wound inflicted on a precious person, is inflicted on me as well."

Shikadai's eyes widened.

"Those who value their lives will do well to remember that," Gaara finished menacingly as the sand in the gourd on his back hissed.

 _Did he just threaten to kill anyone who hurts me?_

Silence pervaded the area once more, although Shikadai thought he saw shivers coursing through more than one person.

"I'd expect nothing less of the Kazekage!" Rock Lee boomed. He was the only one unfazed. "Listen to those words, Metal Lee! They belong to my eternal rival and they are not to be taken lightly!"

"YES, sir!"

The two Lees burst out laughing. Only Lees would laugh upon receiving death threats, and no one joined them.

"To think that my words could such an amused reaction," Gaara murmured. The corners of his lips quirked upwards a millimeter. "Naruto, it seems my endeavors at humor have improved. I was only half joking, after all."

This time, even the Hokage sweat dropped at his antisocial friend. "Heheheh...right you are, Gaara...that was totally funny..."

* * *

"Right...Shikadai...what I was going to say, was that when I looked up, what I saw was actually Lord Kazekage's Third Eye," Sarada murmured, eyes darting nervously towards the Kazekage then back to her shoes, whose eyes were now fixated on the Uchiha.

"Naruto," Aunt Hinata's soft, timid voice piped up, "you didn't tell me that Lord Kazekage would be arriving for the Five Kage Summit early."

Gaara shook his head slightly. "Please, Mrs. Uzumaki. We are friends and have no need to use formality with each other. I've not arrived early in Konoha on Kazekage business, but rather, to visit this place for a few days as a friend. It's been a while since I've had the chance to do that, and I want to spend time with my friends and precious people."

 _Friends? What friends—besides Uncle Naruto, that is—does Uncle Gaara have in Konoha?_

It suddenly struck Shikadai that those friends had to be none other than Konoha 12 itself, and that most of its members were present. He observed the reactions of Aunt Ino, Uncle Sai, Uncle Chouji, Uncle Kiba, Aburame-sensei, and the rest of them...they were normally warm and welcoming people, but he felt only awkward silence and forced politeness in the air right now. Shikadai was suddenly angry. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, not quite aware of it himself.

 _Why? Why are they being so hostile towards Uncle Gaara? They're always talking about the importance of friendship, and now when Uncle Gaara calls them his friends they act all weird and uncomfortable._

"Shikadai, calm down," said a firm voice. Shikadai looked at his uncle, cheeks dusted pink in slight embarrassment. He could tell the others were looking at them strangely, having not noticed Shikadai getting riled up about anything. _How did Uncle Gaara know?_

"All right, Gaara; then please, call me Hinata," Aunt Hinata said, and Shikadai found himself grinding his teeth again at the lack of familiarity and forced politeness in his uncle's interactions with the others.

The Hokage sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah...so, uh, Gaara just arrived like an hour ago, and I didn't want to make a big fuss about it, ya know? Your uncle Kankuro went home already, Shikadai. I was just escorting Gaara around, but when he heard you were training he wanted to come watch right away!"

 _Uncle Gaara...watched me train? He wanted to?_

"And it looks like we were just in time, too! Those were some pretty good moves, Shikadai! I'll have to remember them when I assign you missions! And it looks like you'll sail right through the next Chunin Exams, huh?"

 _God, everybody's staring at me. The one time I put effort into training and I attract this much attention. Jeez. Troublesome._

"You really did a score on Boruto—hey, speaking of which, where's the kid?"

Naruto successfully diverted the attention away from an embarrassed Shikadai and stoic Kazekage. The Konoha 12 seemed to buzz to life once, coming out of their temporary frozen state.

"Your son is flailing about under that tree, dickless."

"OI, Sai! Don't call me that!"

"Naruto, I'm sure Sai didn't mean any harm..."

"Who cares? I'll show him..."

"Naruto, you idiot! Shouldn't you worry about Boruto first?"

"Oh right, right...hehehe..."

"We should go check on Chouchou, Karui."

"Yes, dear..."

"Dad! Mom..."

"Inojin! Are you okay?..."

Shikadai and Gaara were conveniently left out of the conversation, not that Shikadai minded. The voices of his friends faded into the background as he and his uncle seemed to have a silent conversation through their eyes. The only problem was, Shikadai felt like an open book to his uncle, while he hadn't the slightest hint what his uncle himself was thinking. _Well, even if Uncle Gaara is a mind reader, I'm mainly just feeling confused right now..._

"Has your training finished?"

Shikadai started. "Huh? O-oh, yeah, I guess so..." He scratched the back of his head.

Gaara nodded. "We should get going."

Without another word, Gaara turned around and began to walk away. Shikadai scrambled up to follow him, before hesitating to wonder whether or not he should walk behind Uncle Gaara or beside him.

 _I wanted to get to know him better, didn't I?_ Taking a deep breath, he joined his uncle at his side, feeling strangely like a lost puppy trailing the powerful Kazekage.

His thoughts were dismissed and a strange warmth filled his chest when his uncle gently placed a hand on his head, looking at him with fond, smiling eyes. "You did well," Uncle Gaara said. Shikadai felt like beaming.

"Oi, Gaara! Leaving already?" It was Naruto. "At least help me clean up the mess your nephew made! How are we supposed to train when there are trees all over the place?"

Uncle Gaara's movements suggested that he hadn't heard Naruto's loud hollering, or that he was simply ignoring it. He continued walking, back to the training field. Shikadai peered up at his Uncle, before looking behind him at the hissing sound of moving sand.

Three arms of sands curled around the three trees scattered on the ground, picking them like weightless trifles, before sticking them back into the ground likes twigs. The arms receded before fusing together into a wave of sand that gently swept the scattered leaves and debris away. The training field looked almost as good as new.

"It was good to see you, my rival! We shall meet again!" Guess who said that...

"Bye, Gaara!" Naruto cried "See ya 'round, hope you have a nice dinner!"

Shikadai's ears perked up at that.

Dinner?

* * *

"Dinner" turned out to be the last minute affair that had kept Shikadai's parents, Shikamaru and Temari, from watching the training session. Upon hearing that her brothers were coming to Konoha for three days of vacation, Temari immediately insisted on taking them all out for a special dinner at a fancy restaurant, as a family. She had immediately begun with the reservations and preparations—or, rather, forced her husband to do them.

When Shikadai arrived home, he was shaken out of his happy daze walking in the quiet company of his uncle when his mother immediately seized his arm roughly when he reached the door. _Troublesome woman, so violent._

"Get your ass in the shower now, Shikadai!" Unlike other parents, Temari had no qualms about the use of vulgar words. "You smell terrible! We're going out tonight so get yourself together and wear something nice! I want you done in half an hour!"

Temari released her hold of the poor boy, who sauntered away, defeated, and strode over to her baby brother to wrap him in a warm hug, before pinching his cheeks.

Temari was the only person Shikadai had ever witnessed to treat the Kazekage that way. Not the Kazekage seemed to mind.

Shikadai saw his father and Uncle Kankuro sitting and chatting in the living room. He'd given them a lazy wave before excusing himself, subtly pointing at the scary woman who was still babying her little brother. They'd both given him looks of pity.

Shikadai could have gotten ready in half the time, but took thirty minutes anyway, deciding to take things nice and easy while he still had the chance. He wondered if he'd just made his shinobi career a lot more troublesome for himself by allowing the Hokage to observe his skills. _If I start getting more missions...man, that'd be troublesome..._

* * *

A shower, fresh kimono, and whack on the head later (guess who delivered that), Shikadai was heading out of his house with the Hokage adviser and the Sand Siblings—his _family_ , he thought proudly. Although they were no longer alone, he still made it a point to walk beside Uncle Gaara.

The restaurant was nice, and the food top-notch, Shikadai thought, but even it could not compare to the company.

Temari had managed to reserve a private room in Konoha's finest restaurant for the family, and as Shikadai sat there having dinner with his mother, father, and two uncles, he could not but feel entirely content and somehow, complete.

Temari and Kankuro contributed heartily to the conversation, while Shikamaru mostly added quips of his own now and then. Gaara remained completely silent, as usual, although he kept his eyes trained on his family members, happily drinking in the time he got to spend with them.

"So, how's my favorite nephew doing?" Kankuro had asked Shikadai at one point, grinning cheekily.

Shikadai was not one who liked to talk about the happenings of his own life, nor did he like to flaunt his accomplishments. "I'm your only nephew," was Shikadai's usual sarcastic reply to Uncle Kankuro's question, followed by, "and life is a drag."

Instead, Shikadai's parents were slightly flabbergasted to see a malicious smirk adorn his face as he enthusiastically retold the synopsis of his training session from earlier that day. His victory was no surprise to them, but that he had gone through the effort to implement it—and was willingly retelling the story? _Skip it,_ Shikadai would normally say, _explaining would be a waste of my breath_.

Uncle Kankuro was having the time of his life. "You pinned Naruto's brat under a tree?" he exclaimed, slapping his knee. "Ahahahaha! That's priceless!"

"Then Metal Lee showed up out of nowhere and I was ready to have the lights punched out of me...but Uncle Gaara stepped in and saved me." Shikadai glanced shyly at Uncle Gaara sitting beside him.

Both elder Sand Siblings wore faces of surprise when they heard this news. It was rather uncharacteristic of Gaara to interfere with anybody's fight. Shikamaru sat up a little straighter, interested.

"Thanks, by the way," Shikadai told his uncle.

Cool eyes peered at Shikadai from black-rimmed corners before focusing once more on the salted gizzard before him. "It was nothing," Gaara muttered, "I was merely protecting you. Besides...you trained well today."

Shikadai's eyes lit up like a child's at the sight of candy. Shikamaru and Temari glanced at each other, touched and amused by the display before them, not to mention a little shocked that Gaara had actually offered a compliment. To his nephew, yes, but a compliment from Gaara? Rare indeed.

"So, Gaara," Shikamaru spoke up, "are you staying with us this time?"

"No, elder brother; when Naruto found out I was coming to Konoha for a...vacation, he insisted on booking two suites at the inn, one for Kankuro and one for myself," Gaara said. "I couldn't refuse his courtesy. I have already placed my belongings at the inn. We'll head straight over there after dinner."

Shikadai felt a small pang of disappointment.

"Besides, Shikamaru," Kankuro mock-whispered, "who would want to stay in the same house with that loud-mouthed wife of yours?"

Shikamaru chomped down on his own tongue to restrain himself from laughing.

 _WHACK_ "WHAT did you say, puppet boy?"

"Ow, Temari! See, this just proves my point!"

"Go to hell!" She turned to her husband, eyes narrowed. "Were you _laughing_?"

Shikamaru shook his head wildly.

Shikadai sighed quietly, discreetly so that no one would notice. Or so he hoped. However, immediately after he did so, Uncle Gaara's eyes flicked in his directions. _How does he notice this type of thing? Maybe he really IS a mind reader._

Uncle Gaara's eyes were questioning. Shikadai sighed, audibly this time. He tried to put up a nonchalant facade, scratching the back of his head as he asked, "I was just wondering if...uh...I could accompany you and Uncle Kankuro back to the inn after dinner or something?"

Against Shikadai's wishes, his parents and other uncle stopped talking to listen to Uncle Gaara's response. _This is...embarassing._

"No."

Tense silence filled the air.

"I have no need for an escort."

Temari looked nervous; Uncle Kankuro piped up, with a slightly worried look on his face, trying to appease the situation. "Now, Gaara—"

" _No_ ," Gaara interrupted, voice stern, eyes narrow, and demeanor leaving no room for argument. "I won't have Konoha wasting their shinobi on useless missions."

Tense silence filled the air once again, leaving the five at the dinner table staring awkwardly at one another. Shikadai suddenly felt a little guilty; had he ruined the perfect family dinner?

"Hehe, 's no big deal," he tried chuckling, although he quickly shut his mouth after that and focused on his food, afraid that his nonchalant facade would crack.

After a while, the tenseness dissipated from their private dinner room, filling with chatter and laughter once again.

Shikadai tried his best to continue on eating like nothing had happened. However, he noted dully that the warmth in his chest from earlier was gone. In its place, he felt a small stab to his heart.

* * *

"It was nice to get to spend time with you guys again," Shikamaru said to his brothers-in-law.

They had finished the meal and were now standing outside the restaurant. They were well into the evening and nearing bedtime—for Shikadai, at least. Now was the time they said goodbye and parted ways for the day.

Quick hugs were exchanged, albeit halfheartedly by Shikadai, who was still feeling dejected from the earlier episode.

"All right, let's get going." Temari placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Come on, Shikadai."

Shikadai turned away from his two uncles, about to walk in the opposite direction with his parents, when—

"Shikadai."

Shikadai whipped back around to locate the source of the voice.

Uncle Gaara.

This time, Shikadai returned the questioning eyes his uncle had given him. Uncle Gaara simply made a small movement of his head. Shikadai frowned.

"Huh?"

"Did you want to return to the inn with us?"

Shikadai's chest tightened—out of anxiety or excitement, he couldn't tell. "Really? But—" he faltered, and added a bit bitterly, "...I thought you didn't want an escort."

His uncle nodded. "That's true.

"But I'll always desire the company of my precious people."

Words stuck in Shikadai's throat. Uncle Gaara had spoken so few words, and he was already on the verge of crying or something similar. _Get yourself together!_ he tried to scream at himself in his head. _You're being pathetic!_

Shikamaru finally decided it was time to help his son out. He couldn't blame him for feeling the way he did; his brother-in-law was an insanely intense man.

"Shikadai, why don't you spend a few nights with your uncles at the inn? Let's run home and pick some of your stuff first, and then you can join Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankuro, okay?"

"Really?!"

The four adults chuckled at the look of happiness that had entered the young shinobi's eyes.

* * *

A bundle of clothes was slung over Shikadai's shoulder. It contained provisions for his next few days.

It was a pleasantly cool evening in the city of Konoha, and the young Nara was strolling with one of the most important men of Suna on his left, and _the_ most important man of Suna on his right. His uncles.

On their walk from the Nara home to the inn Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankuro would be staying at, Shikadai had chatted with Uncle Kankuro a bit. Uncle Gaara had again fallen into silence.

When they reached the inn, however, Shikadai suddenly remembered that Uncle Gaara had said the Hokage had reserved _two_ rooms—one for the Kazekage and the other for his brother. _Who I am staying with tonight?_

Uncle Kankuro quickly answered that question for him, however, when he waved lazily and began walking to his own room, saying, "I'm leaving the brat with you, Gaara. Sleep well, Shikadai!"

"Good night, Uncle Kankuro..." _I'm staying with Uncle Gaara?!_

Gaara nodded at Kankuro, before gesturing with his eyes at Shikadai to follow him.

Shikadai would have marvelled at the beautifully furnished hotel room the Hokage had graciously reserved for the Kazekage, had his thoughts not been filled with the prospect of having a "sleepover" with Uncle Gaara. He had never even fathomed the possibility of such an event.

The room had several comfortable-looking couches, a large writing desk, a spacious bathroom, a kitchenette, and a large bed. Shikadai slung his bag to the floor, looking at Uncle Gaara, who was removing the sand gourd from his back. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"No. There is no need."

 _Huh?_ "But Uncle Gaara—what about you?"

"A couple hours of meditation shall be sufficient rest for me. Sleep evades those inflicted with insanity."

Insane?

 _Insane people cackle, shout, act on urges and impulses, are unable to contain their emotions, are messed up in the head, are pretty violent and often end up hurting people, blah blah blah...they're pretty plain scary. ...But Uncle Gaara's none of those things. What the hell does he mean?_

Shikadai lightly scoffed. "Insane? Uncle Gaara, how in the world are you insane?"

"Insanity leaves an eternal imprint on a person's soul that can never be washed away. It cannot be cured like an illness. It may fade away from the surface but it always remain, somewhere deep within."

The words were haunting and Shikadai didn't know what to reply to that. He suddenly remembered how little he really knew about his uncle, and Rock Lee's words. _The difficulty of the past he burdens..._

A new twist had been added to Shikadai's game. This shougi was truly transcending difficulty.

To Shikadai, that was exhilarating.

Finally, he shrugged. "I guess all of us are a little crazy, aren't we?"

Uncle Gaara smiled.

Shikadai exited the bathroom, freshly changed into his pajamas, feeling more tired than he'd realized he had been. _This day took a lot out of me. I don't think I've ever tried so much in my whole life._

He found Uncle Gaara sitting by the window, gazing at the moon, as if recalling memories from the past. _I wonder what memories those are_ , Shikadai _couldn't help but think_. I wonder if I'll find out some day.

He crawled under the covers of the bed, relishing in their softness. If there was one thing Shikadai knew how to appreciate, it was relaxing.

He released his black hair from its spiky ponytail, allowing it to fall to his shoulders. He fell back onto the plush pillow. His lids grew heavy over his eyes.

"G'night, Uncle Gaara," he mumbled.

The head of red turned from the window to watch him. "Good night, Shikadai," came the gentle reply.

The sea-foam green eyes' gaze did not remove itself from the shinobi on the bed. Shikadai felt himself being stared at with the infamous eyes that were known to melt ice and sink the toughest shinobi to their knees.

Then e remembered Uncle Gaara saving him with his sand. The gentle hand placed tenderly on his head. Being praised about his training match. Being called a precious person and having his company desired.

The eyes weren't predatory at all. Shikadai felt them basking him with love.

He fell into a deep, deep sleep. That night, he was protected from nightmares and blessed with sweet dreams.


	4. Chapter 3: Cocoon

**Author's Note: The story continues...enjoy Chapter 3 and the drama of human interaction.**

 **I want to thank everyone whose followed/favorited/reviewed this story...you let me know that my efforts are of fruit after all. A special thank you to** **Lady the Warrior** **for your enormous support!**

 **There's not much to say about this chapter, except that there's a TINY spoiler from The Seventh Hokage and the Scarlet Spring. An unimportant detail, but I don't want you to spoil yourselves and hate me for it. It occurs right after Shikadai leaves Chouchou's house...**

 **Make the reviews section your home after this reading...and let me know if this chapter bores the hell out of you.**

Chapter 3—Cocoon

Warm rays of soft golden sunlight filtered through the still-closed eyelids of Shikadai Nara.

 _Ah_ , he relished, not moving from his comfortable position on the bed. To wake up in the morning of his own free will...he'd almost forgotten how blissful such mornings were. Today, there was no troublesome woman screaming in his ear to get him out of bed. No headaches induced by wailing alarm clocks or head bruises from a certain kunoichi's heavy metal fan. No need to get ready for troublesome training or a mission. Nothing troublesome. Nope, today there were just the velvety covers of the bed underneath him, the gentle sunlight warming his skin, the birds chirping outside the window, the clouds floating in the sky, and—

"Good morning."

Shikadai cracked his eyelids open for the first time that morning, and opened his eyes to the sight of crimson.

"Good morning," he said, blinking the daze out of his eyes, "Uncle Gaara..."

Shikadai noted his uncle's position on the chair by the window. As far as he could tell, Uncle Gaara hadn't budged an inch since last night, since Shikadai fell asleep with his uncle's watchful gaze set upon him.

Uncle and nephew spent the first few moments of their day enjoying this chance they had to look into the others' eyes and confirm each other's presence and existence.

Inwardly, Shikadai thought it was nice to have someone like Uncle Gaara watch over you, keeping you safe, for the entire night. He hadn't had anything to fear in the first place, but somehow, Uncle Gaara being there just made the bedroom feel just a little more secure inside.

Unbeknownst to Shikadai, Gaara was thinking that watching over his nephew replaced the emptiness and loneliness that usually filled his long, lonely insomniac nights.

Shikadai's slightly unfocused eyes suddenly snapped to attention. "What time is it?" he asked with an edge of worry and panic in his voice.

Gaara reveled at the way the light in his nephew's eyes could change and reflect upon his inner feelings, rather unlike his own unreadable ones. The connection between Gaara's own emotions and his facial expressions was a weak one.

"It's half past eight."

Shikadai's shoulders visibly relaxed, and the alarm in his teal eyes receded to be replaced by its usual coolness. _This is the first morning in a long time since I've worried about the time I got up. It's more than enough to have Mom all over me about it._

 _Half past eight, huh? That's awfully early, considering that I woke up of my own free will. For a moment there, I thought maybe I slept into the afternoon!_ And Shikadai was quite surprised with himself that his eyes weren't laced with sleep this morning; instead, he felt wakefully refreshed. Usually, he could have slept for 24 hours straight and still woken up burdened with fatigue.

Random thoughts of a newly-hatched butterfly crawling out of its cocoon and unfurling its delicate wings popped into Shikadai's head as he removed the warm blankets wrapped around his body and eased himself out of bed. Uncle Gaara's presence also seemed to give Shikadai the side effect of unusual, unorthodox introspection.

Excusing himself, Shikadai shuffled across the hotel suite and closed himself in the bathroom to get ready for the day. After responding to the calls of nature, he situated himself in front of the sink, shoved a toothbrush into his mouth, and stared at the person brushing his teeth in the mirror across from him. He didn't look anything like Uncle Gaara.

 _Troublesome. Since when have I cared about my looks?_ Despite himself, Shikadai found himself scrutinizing his own features. _Appearance?_ Most obviously belonging to Konohagakure's Nara. No one needed to look twice to confirm his clan heritage. _Hair?_ Black—a normal, boring color. _But normal and boring is good, right—doesn't stand out, not too troublesome..._ He spat out the toothpaste and watched it splatter in the sink. _Skin?_ Slightly tan, like his father—he had little of the Sand Siblings' shining, flawless paleness. He rinsed out his foaming mouth and grabbed his hair tie. He gathered his straight black locks. _Hair style?_ A single spiky ponytail on the top of his head. _Dorky_ , Shikadai thought, or as his mother would describe it, _Like a_ _pineapple_. Sunagakure's Temari sported a grand total of four ponytails, but somehow the hairstyle lent her a generous amount of sassiness, unlike her husband and child—and this was a point the kunoichi did not falter to point out often. _Mom does wonders for my self-esteem._ Shikadai quickly stripped himself of his pajamas to change. _Clothes?_ Normal beige jacket with the Nara clan symbol imprinted on the backside. Nothing special. Easy to blend in with a crowd.

With a huff, Shikadai straightened himself out and observed the mirror once more. This time, he set his sights on his eyes.

 _Temari wasn't home, and consequently, Shikamaru was sprawled out lazily on the couch, the cigarette in his mouth enshrouding him in a cloud of smoke._

 _"_ _Hey Dad," his son piped randomly, "what's your favorite color?"_

 _Shikamaru flicked his black eyes over to Shikadai in mild surprise. "What brings this up?"_

 _"_ _Call it curiosity. Besides, I should know. You're my dad."_

 _Shikamaru exhaled loudly. He holstered himself up into a sitting position. "Troublesome," he sighed, scratching the back of his head._

 _Shikadai raised a brow at man's laziness. "Seriously? That's stretching it even for me. I asked for your favorite_ color _."_

 _Shikamaru held up his hands in defeat. "I know, I know...all right. It's blue-green."_

 _He took the stub away from his lips and turned to look at his son more sharply. "But only a certain kind."_

 _"_ _What, like a certain shade?"_

 _"_ _No, no, it's not that. In fact it's cool in a various number of shades. It's just...goshhhhh, how do I say this? Something from your mom's side of the family."_

 _"_ _Mom's family? What do they have anything to do with this?"_

 _"_ _Everything. Sort of. It's their eyes—" now that Shikadai thought of it, two of the Sand Siblings did indeed have blue-green eyes of some sort. "Blue and green are supposed to cool colors that remind people of the sea, but when you look into their eyes...you can't help but think of the blazing sun over the desert...and all that sentimental crap." Suddenly, Shikamaru smirked. "You know, Shikadai...you should have figured this out earlier yourself. Don't you have those same eyes?"_

 _Shikadai blinked, suddenly self-conscious. "Tch," he said, because he really couldn't think of anything else to say._

He stared at his reflection now and saw the two slanted, almond-shaped, sparkling sharp teal eyes. He'd often heard people say that the eyes were the "windows to the soul". He'd scoffed at it before.

Now he wondered what it meant since his eyes belonged to the family of Sunagakure's Sand Siblings.

Shikadai shook himself of his thoughts. Teal eyes blinked back at him in annoyance. Was he seriously soul-searching in the _bathroom_ in a _mirror_?

Talk about troublesome introspection.

Now dressed and ready to begin the day, the boy exited the bathroom and reentered the hotel suite again. It seemed his uncle was very fond of looking out of windows, seeing as that was the activity he was currently engaged in, and not for the first time, either. The sand-nin made no indication that he had noticed the Konoha genin's presence, but knowing the Kazekage's sharp observational skills, there was no doubt in Shikadai's mind that Uncle Gaara knew he was there.

Knowing that waiting for the silent redhead to initiate a conversation would probably be a lost cause, Shikadai casually asked, "D'you know what Uncle Kankuro's doing?" He wondered if he would be spending the day with both his uncles, or whether either uncle would want to spend the day with him at all.

"Yes. It's not often we have so much time on our hands during visits, so your uncle took advantage of it to pay a visit to Konoha's Hot Springs. They're a rare luxury Sunagakure cannot afford." Shikadai wondered what his mother's desert homeland was like. "Your mother and father joined him."

Shikadai wondered how early his father had to get up in the morning in order to make this excursion. From his son's point-of-view, Shikamaru made truly too many sacrifices for his troublesome wife. "You aren't joining them?"

"No. I'm not too fond of...public baths. I may meet with my siblings and your father again later this evening."

Shikadai felt his heart flutter in mild excitement, but ignored it. "So what's the plan for today, then?"

There was a pause. Gaara removed himself from his statuesque posture and turned to face his nephew, though his arms were still tightly crossed over his chest. "I merely plan to experience Konoha as a local. As Kazekage, it is easy to forget what it is like to be one of the crowd." Gaara didn't mention that he actually had nothing to forget, he'd never had the chance to _be_ part of the crowd—since childhood, Gaara had been set apart from everyone else. "I wish to walk the streets as a commoner—an impossible endeavor for me to achieve in Sunagakure." A slight furrow appeared on Gaara's smooth face, although as quickly as it had come it had gone. "Those, of course, are my plans for today. What are yours is a question only you can answer."

Shikadai blinked. "Don't you want me to come with you?" he blurted. _Dammit, I'm such an idiot! I've totally overestimated my importance in Uncle Gaara's life!_

The crease between Gaara's eyes didn't fade this time. "You have no obligation to do so."

Shikadai nearly gaped. _Obligation?...Wait...so he thinks it's ME who doesn't want to join HIM?_

"But I want to."

"You have lived in Konoha for your entire life. You have no need to engage in the activities that I wish to do, you've walked Konoha's streets many times—"

"So I can show you around. I grew up here, right? I'm sure there are places I could show you that you don't know about."

"Surely there are other activities you wish to do to better occupy your time than to—"

"Nah, doing anything else would be too troublesome anyway. I'd rather spend the day walking around the village doing nothing with you."

"...Why?"

"...Huh?"

Gaara turned his head to face the window again. This time, however, his eyes did not seem to be focusing on what was happening outside of it.

"...Why...? Why would you want to spend your day in my presence?"

"But Uncle Gaara...we've spent plenty of time together before..."

"Voluntarily?"

His uncle's voice had dropped by several volumes, and Shikadai felt a small stab to his heart. With his quick observational and processing skills, Shikadai realized that the surprise and confusion in Uncle Gaara's voice could only mean that very rarely did anyone want to spend time doing things with him. He may not have shown it on his stony features, but inside, it was already a miracle to him that Shikadai had obliged to stay with him overnight. That must mean that... _Uncle Gaara is only used to having people be in his presence when they're obligated to, and not because they WANT to..._

 _Has he thought—all this time—that I never liked spending time with him? That when I did it was out of obligation?_

 _Why?_

Not letting his inner feelings show, Shikadai shrugged and smirked at his uncle lazily. He didn't want to show Gaara an overreaction. "Of course it was voluntarily! Look," Shikadai said patiently, having an incredible epiphany that here he was, almost _lecturing_ the _Kazekage_ as if he were a _child_. Fortunately, he drew upon his Nara talent to school his features to nonchalance even in the face of serious situations—he thanked his dad for his genes now. "We're family, and family spend time together. I know you're Kazekage and all that but if you want to spend your day like a commoner, well this is what commoners do. Besides, normally I think family responsibilities are just troublesome—" Shikadai thought sourly of some of his Nara Clan duties—"but I like you, Uncle Gaara. Spending the day with you wouldn't be half bad." Shikadai made his expression a little more meaningful. "You live so far away...we don't see each other enough as it is. So honestly, it wouldn't be troublesome if you let me tag along with you this time."

Gaara looked away from his nephew for a moment, an influx of emotion deluging his mind. Mint eyes glinted with gratitude when they met the teal ones once more.

"Okay," the uncle whispered softly. The nephew beamed.

"So...growing cacti, huh?"

Gaara and Shikadai, the seemingly unlikely pair, had just taken leave from a small café at which they had eaten breakfast. Shikadai was never a big eater—Chouchou was the binge-eater, while Shikadai was the binge-sleeper. He didn't starve himself, but the adults he knew would either remind him to eat more so he could have adequate strength and energy as a ninja, or tease him about being scrawny and poke him in the ribs. Not that Shikadai cared about appearing fat or skinny, but indeed: the shinobi he knew all ate no less than adequately and had fine muscle tone and lithe bodies.

However, at breakfast that morning, Shikadai noticed that Uncle Gaara ate even _less_ than Shikadai himself did, and consumed in bites so small it was almost painful to watch. Shikadai had subtly swept his eyes over his uncle's form: the man was short—that much was obvious—but he didn't have anything to make up for it, either. His clothes looked small enough as they were and yet were loose fitting—did the man even have any muscle mass? His long, loose, billowing robes only seemed to emphasize his small stature. The shinobi Shikadai knew often trained long and hard for hours to get their bodies and stamina up to par—they were active all the time—but Gaara never seemed to move more than a few inches at a time. Without his reputation and aura, he might seem as delicate as a doll wrapped in layers of flowing red cloth.

It seemed that Gaara always broke the rules.

"Yes."

To break the silence, Shikadai had asked his uncle what his hobbies were. He had resolved, after all, to get to know the man better. At first, he'd blanched at himself for asking the lamest question possible, but now it seemed like it'd been the perfect question. Uncle Gaara...tending cacti? For some reason, it was hard to come up with an image of Uncle Gaara proudly admiring potted plants in Shikadai's mind, and he considered it a personal victory for having come across this rather interesting tidbit of information.

Suddenly Shikadai had an idea. "Do you like other kinds of plants?"

Gaara contemplated this. "To me, cacti are fascinating because of their ability to...survive and bloom even in the desert's harsh conditions. However yes, the flora of various countries does intrigue me. Konoha in particular has an impressive quantity of it."

So this strict, serious, seemingly unaffected man had a soft spot for nature. "I know a good place we can visit."

Gaara looked at Shikadai.

"My teammate's family owns a flower shop. They've got a whole variety of beautiful plants in there from all over the Fire Country, some of which I've never even heard of."

"The...Yamanakas?" Gaara inquired.

"Yeah, that's them. So, wanna go? You can also meet Inojin if he's there today. He's one of my best friends and my teammate."

"I would...enjoy that very much," Gaara replied, secretly pleased that his nephew was going so far for him.

The pair settled once more into a comfortable silence. The streets and shops around them bustled with life. Shikadai noticed quite a few people who sent looks their way that lasted for longer than a glance. The Kazekage was a famous individual, and even in Konoha, there were bound to be some who recognized the leader of their allied nation and the Fourth Shinobi War's commander. Despite that, no one made a move to approach Gaara.

Shikadai knew Konoha people to be quite enthusiastic, so this bothered him slightly. The Hokage was always met with much fanfare in the streets. Shikadai knew for a fact that his observant uncle was not oblivious to their surroundings either, but Gaara appeared unperturbed. However, when did he not?

Shikadai turned at the next corner, Gaara following him silently. He continued walking until he was standing right in front of the colorful shop, looking up at the bright sign that proudly displayed the word "花". He stood there, looking at the Yamanaka Flower Shop's facade. Gaara stood next to him; Shikadai seemed to be waiting for something, so Gaara merely waited silently along with him, not prodding.

Shikadai recalled that his uncle wanted peace and quiet on this day and did not want to draw attention. _Genius_ , Shikadai thought of himself, _the first place you thought of bringing him was_ _Aunt Ino's_ _?_ Shikadai finally let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I just thought of something. Inojin's mom—Aunt Ino...I don't know if she's here today, but if she is, she can be...well..." _Extremely loud and annoying? Gossipy? Pushy? Attention-drawing?_ "Troublesome. Come to think of it, this might not be a good idea."

Gaara closed his eyes and let out a short breath of air escape from his nostrils in what Shikadai realized was supposed to be a soft chuckle. "I'm not unacquainted with Yamanaka or with Sai." _All right, but are you_ _acquainted_ _with her then?_ Shikadai countered in his head. "I consider them friends."

 _You've been warned._ Shikadai shrugged and led the way inside the store.

A pleasing floral aroma filled the Yamanaka Flower Shop, inside of which were not too many people. The area behind the counter was currently empty, and despite Uncle Gaara's reassurance that he was "not unacquainted" with the female Yamanaka Clan head, Shikadai found himself letting out a sigh of relief.

The flowers painted the interior of the shop in vivid greens, blues, reds, yellows, and oranges, and softer pinks, purples, and whites. Gaara found the assembly of colors and shapes inside the shop intoxicatingly mesmerizing. Many people—especially shinobi—lacked interest in what Gaara saw as nature's gift of life and love to man, but Gaara saw such things as so precious that he couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't cherish the flowers and plants that sprouted from the earth. He let out a breath of appreciation and awe that went unnoticed by everybody except for the boy standing by his side. Shikadai inclined his head at Uncle Gaara's apparent interest in their surroundings and grinned sheepishly.

 _Uncle Gaara likes plants, huh? He wasn't kidding_ , Shikadai observed. They would probably be in here for a while. There were hundreds of various species in the shop, and with no small amount of determination, the redheaded man was scrutinizing and inspecting every one. He would simply stand there, arms crossed and unmoving, and stare down at some flower with intensity strong enough to wilt the poor plant. After a considerable amount of time that could convince someone that the immobile Gaara was simply deep in thought and not actually observing the flower before him at all, he would turn and reposition himself before a new plant before repeating his concentrated procedure of scrutinizing.

Shikadai plopped down on a bench and watched his uncle have staring contests with the many pots of flowers in the Yamanaka Flower Shop. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back, sighing contentedly. His eyes began to flutter shut—he may have been more energized than usual because of Uncle Gaara's presence, but he was still Shikadai Nara, after all. He wasn't about to let up an opportunity to sleep. His vision blurred the image of his flower-observing uncle into a fuzzy crimson among the various miscellaneous blobs of color that were flowers.

Until purple completely invaded his field of vision all of a sudden. Shikadai's eyes snapped open. There, in all her troublesome glory, was blonde, ponytailed Ino Yamanaka, hands on her hips and teasing scowl on her face.

"Shikadai Nara! What are you doing sleeping in my shop?"

Shikadai groaned. "Aunt Ino..."

Sai stood next to his wife, albeit in a much quieter fashion. "Hello, Lazy Junior."

"Uncle Sai," Shikadai acknowledged with a nod, internally grimacing at the man's awkward nicknaming habit which Inojin had not failed to pick up on from time to time.

Sai stood there with a smile plastered to his face, while Ino ranted, "Of all places for you to sleep, you had to come to my shop, huh? What will the other customers say? I swear you are just as bad as Shikamaru, Shikadai! Always sleeping and grumbling and complaining about how everything is troublesome..."

Shikadai tuned out Aunt Ino's incessant babbling, knowing that she was intentionally doing it just to annoy him, and not to actually chastise him. He also knew that if the other customers in the shop were to be bothered, it would be because of the Yamanaka matriarch's noisiness, and not because of a Nara sleeping in the corner. The amused eyes of shop's current customers watching them was proof of that.

Shikadai watched his uncle—who had up to that point succeeded in keeping a low profile—relieve a potted forget-me-not from his careful attention and make his way over to the screeching blonde woman, her wife, and the ponytailed boy watching the entire affair with lazy eyes.

"And look at me when I talk to you, Shikadai, or I—"

"Is there a problem?"

Ino stiffened at the sound of the deep, raspy voice that was so low in volume—as opposed to her own—and yet possessed such command. Then she whipped around, hands flying to her hips once more in her characteristic manner, threatening to yell whoever had _dared_ interrupt her to _death_ , regardless of who it might be. "Who—"she began.

Her eyes met sea-foam green.

"Lord Kazekage!" she cried in a surprised, yet soft, humbled voice. She immediately took a deep bow, and her husband followed her gesture. "It's an honor to have you in the Yamanaka Flower Shop!"

She straightened herself out again. Sai had been watching her out of the corner of his eye and once more copied her actions. The man was truly hopeless sometimes.

Ino took a deep breath. "Please, don't worry, Lord Kazekage! There's nothing wrong here! Please, feel free to look around! "

"I hope the shop fits your needs," Sai continued.

Behind her, Shikadai got up, narrowing his eyes. Both Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai were acting strange. They were not being themselves: Aunt Ino was a bossy, overdramatic woman who always wanted everything her way—and now what was she doing? Humbling herself, _bowing_ —to a guy who had supposedly interrupted her mid-speech? Acting all soft and polite? And Uncle Sai—he was normally direct and straightforward; more often than not one wished he didn't open his mouth to speak of his own accord. However, all he had said to Gaara as of yet was respectful and businesslike, and he was simply copying his wife's polite movements like a robot.

Charades. So, incredibly fake. The Yamanaka couple had automatically erected a wall between themselves and the redheaded man before them. Shikadai gnashed his teeth, his heart squirming within the confines of his rib cage as his suspicions were confirmed.

No one considered Uncle Gaara a friend.

 _"_ _I consider them friends."_

Even the ones that Uncle Gaara himself called his friends.

Shikadai was not mad at Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai themselves. By now he'd been able to infer that they were not unfairly discriminating against Uncle Gaara, as all of Konoha seemed to act this way. He was, however, disappointed at the unfair circumstances, sad for his uncle, and most of all, confused.

 _Why?_

Again, Uncle Gaara appeared unperturbed. Instead, he responded to Ino's and Sai's gestures with a small bow of his own. Like all of Gaara's motions, it was a subtle one, but surprise registered on the Yamanaka couple's faces. "I believe I've already taken the liberty of doing so, Mrs. Yamanaka." He was talking about "looking around" the shop, which he certainly had indulged in a profuse amount of. "I'm privileged to have friends who have dedicated themselves to honoring plant life in such a way. I've taken a great liking to your sanctuary." Gaara stood straight once more. "It is also good to see the two of you again. I do not have the opportunity to encounter my friends often."

Neither Yamanaka seemed to be able to say anything for a moment. How often does the infamously cold and dangerous Sabaku no Gaara spontaneously appear in your flower shop, shower you with compliments, and call you his friend?

Shikadai could clearly see that Ino was still uncomfortable under Gaara's gaze, and his wife's discomfort was affecting Sai, too. The pale man managed to muster, after a few seconds, "It's good to see you again too, Lord Kazekage. How is Commander Kankuro?"

 _Commander Kankuro?_ wondered Shikadai.

"Please, just Gaara is fine. Kankuro is doing well."

"Ahh—what brings you here today, Lord—Gaara? I really hope our shop suits your needs—are you looking for something?" Aunt Ino stuttered slightly, plastic grin on her face.

"I am simply admiring your collection of flowers. And it is a question of who brought me here, not what. It was my nephew." Gaara's eyes landed on Shikadai.

Ino and Sai turned around to look at the Nara boy, incredulity in the former's eyes.

Shikadai resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Gaara was his uncle, so was it so hard to make the connection between the two of them? They also must have believed that Uncle Gaara was a real loner—did they really think that Shikadai and Gaara's appearance in the same time and at the same place was a coincidence?

"Shikadai!" Ino hissed in a undertone, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Shikadai ignored Aunt Ino's and Uncle Sai's awkward antics. "You know Uncle Kankuro too, Uncle Sai?"

Sai blinked for a moment, and his normal expression returned to his face as he spoke to Shikadai. "Yes, Lazy Junior, I was on his platoon in the War."

That explains the name _Commander_. Shikadai suddenly felt a childish satisfaction that all his relatives had been so high-ranking in the war. He swallowed the feeling.

"You have a shinobi son," Gaara spoke again.

"Ah—yes!" Ino answered.

"He is Shikadai's teammate."

"Yes! They're both part of this generation's Ino-Shika-Chou!"

"I'm curious."

Shikadai snickered at his uncle's straightforwardness and the surprised look on Aunt Ino's face.

"Huh? Oh!" Ino glanced around furtively, before turning and yelling to one of the shop's back rooms, "INOJIN! WE HAVE COMPANY, COME OUT HERE!"

Shikadai heard scrambling and snickered again. Temari of the Sand and Ino Yamanaka were two _very_ different women, but when it came down to fundamentals, they were both troublesome mothers. However, while Shikadai responded to his mother with nonchalance and an air of defiance, Inojin acted like a scampering servant who'd been ordered around by a queen. Chouchou and Shikadai enjoyed teasing Inojin by bringing up his unquestionable obedience to his mother and questioning his manliness.

A pale head popped out from behind the door. "Yes, Mom?" The blonde boy stumbled out into the shop. He noticed Shikadai and gave him a side glance—he knew that his teammate couldn't be the "company" his mother had referred to, since Shikadai was a regular whose presence needn't be announced. "Who—" his eyes widened and his stance grew stiff and rigid as his eyes landed upon Shikadai's uncle.

Said teammate gave another inaudible groan. _Great. First Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai, and now Inojin, too._

Inojin's pale eyes darted quickly between Shikadai—his best friend and teammate—and the gourd-wielding shinobi—who was even less than a stranger to him. Stiffly, robotically, Inojin bowed, and with a nearly pre-programmed voice, intoned, "Hello, Lord Kazekage."

Shikadai sent his teammate a disapproving look that said, _Dude, what is wrong with you today?_

It certainly wasn't the meeting Shikadai had imagined between his uncle and teammate.

Ino giggled to attempt to disarm the situation. "Inojin, go make some tea for Shikadai and his—his uncle."

"There's no need for that," Gaara protested.

"No, there _is_ a need for it," Sai said, fake cheerful smile securely in place. "You're a guest here. I've also read that sharing tea with acquaintances is a good way to dissipate awk—"

Ino forcefully pinched her husband's arm to stop him from _magnifying_ the awkwardness levels in the room. "R-r-right, what Sai said! Besides, it's not every day that handsome important men visit the Yamanaka Flower Shop!" Ino winked at Gaara, trying to relieve some tension. Shikadai noticed that Aunt Ino, despite everything, was still acting cautiously and on-guard: her flattery and bravado were nowhere near her regular supply.

"Is that so?" _Wow, Uncle Gaara is as socially clueless as Uncle Sai. However, he's not as annoying._

"But Gorgeous, I _am_ at the Yamanaka Flower Shop every day." Sai wasn't even trying to joke with his wife; he was dead serious. _That's just...sad_ , Shikadai thought.

"I wasn't talking about you!"

"But you call me handsome and important every day—"

"Ugh, just shut up!" said an embarrassed Ino, giving her husband a shove, vein popping in her temple. With his disarming smile still in place, Sai began to lead the way through the flower shop to the door that would lead to the back room where tea would soon be served.

The Yamanaka Flower Shop was not where the Yamanaka family lived; however, since they spent most of their time there anyway, it had several rooms that they'd furnished like a home. Ino and Sai led Shikadai and Gaara into a modest room with several couches around a rectangular table. Inojin was setting down a kettle of tea and several teacups; Shikadai snorted, thinking that his friend looked somewhat like a maid, and filed the thought away so he could tease Inojin about it later. As if reading his teammate's thoughts, Inojin sent a glare Shikadai's way, retreating into a corner and leaning against the wall.

Shikadai sat himself down next to his uncle, while Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai sat across from them. Aunt Ino's hands were folded tightly in her lap, her normally bubbly demeanor restrained. Shikadai noticed that Inojin still refrained from sitting down, even though there was enough space for him beside his mother and father. He was simply backed up against the wall, as if distancing himself from the ordeal, albeit watching it with calculating eyes, figure rigid and scowl in place.

 _What's with him?_

Shikadai regarded Inojin a bit suspiciously, but shrugged it off. Sai poured everyone's tea and Shikadai reached out for his own cup, blowing away the smoke and taking a sip.

It was a predicament. Aunt Ino, the usual talker, seemed to have zipped lips at the moment and considering her standards, was practically mute. Uncle Gaara was practically mute in the first place, except for when it mattered. Uncle Sai was the silent observer who would only make himself known at the most inappropriate of moments in the most inappropriate ways. Inojin was not being any help, seeing as to how he was sulking.

The atmosphere was so stifling that Shikadai began calculating the probability of suffocating. _Troublesome._

"Uncle Gaara likes to cultivate cacti at home," Shikadai informed the room's occupants, breaking the silence. "He really likes plants, so that's why I thought he'd like which the Yamanaka Flower Shop."

"Cacti!" Ino exclaimed. "Well, we don't have too many of those, unfortunately: most of our customers think they're—they don't know how to appreciate desert plants! They prefer the beautiful, flowery type! Of course, _I'm_ a plant expert, so I do know a thing or two about cacti as well!"

"That so?" Gaara replied.

"Cacti?" Sai tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Aren't they those ugly plants that look like green stumps with spines all over them?"

Shikadai could see Aunt Ino's face reddening, her mouth opening and closing while she thought of a way to remedy her husband's mistake. Shikadai glanced a little nervously at the man beside him. He had never actually seen the way Uncle Gaara reacted to provocation, unintended as it was. Shikadai himself was victim to Uncle Sai's inadverdent abrasiveness, which could be infuriating, to say the least. How would the notoriously powerful Kazekage react...?

To the surprise of everyone in the room (except Sai, who never seemed surprised about anything), Gaara nodded. "Yes, that's quite an accurate description..."

A low hissing sound permeated the room, and heads snapped in alarm to the source. Sand was pouring out of Gaara's gourd and onto the wooden floor. Shikadai stared, not daring to blink his eyes, his heart pounding within the confines of his chest. Aunt Ino visibly recoiled in fear, and Inojin's eyes widened so far so as to bug out of their sockets.

Uncle Gaara still sat unmoving, arms crossed and eyes level—one oblivious to his powers would not have thought the writhing sand had anything to do with statue-like man. The sand rose into the air, four pairs of eyes following it...

And materialized into the shape of a cactus plant.

"The cactus's bloom is rare...but when it does, it blooms with incomparable beauty and radiance, which makes it that much more precious..."

"Wow, Uncle Gaara!" Shikadai exclaimed, getting to his feet to observe the sand-plant, which Gaara had turned into a realistic green with his chakra. A large, radiantly pink flower sat atop the cactus, it's long and numerous petals fanning out like fingers, though its size was much larger than Shikadai's hand.

He subtly ignored the room's other occupants cautiously return to their previous states, having realized that were no threat.

Shikadai brought out a hand and tentatively touched the edge of a petal, further awed by the fact that the sand-cactus not only looked real...but _felt_ real, as well.

The strain in the room lessened as Aunt Ino got up to make observations of the plant, which was so detailed that she was able to recognize the species. Uncle Sai got out his notebook and began sketching it.

Shikadai sat back on the couch, contentedly watching the scene before him, which was not completely relaxed yet but was certainly less awkward than before. _Trust Uncle Gaara to diffuse the situation so easily—_

Shikadai was shaken out of his reverie when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him to see Inojin staring at him with hard eyes.

"Shikadai...can we talk?"

Shrugging, Shikadai got up, excusing himself from the conversation. Aunt Ino continued rambling about the cactus, while Uncle Gaara's eyes flicked in his direction for a short second as a sign of acknowledgement.

Inojin led Shikadai out through the front of the shop again and received a few greetings from customers who recognized the youngest Yamanaka. Inojin did not stop until they had gotten outside, after which he turned fully on the Nara.

"What the hell is with you?" Shikadai asked right away, peeved by his friend's behavior and not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What the hell is with _me_? I should be the one asking _you_ that!" Inojin ground out through gritted teeth.

Shikadai stared at fuming gray-blue eyes. "Tch, what the hell did you eat this morning to make you lose it like this? Troublesome."

"Don't pretend you don't know!" But Shikadai really didn't want what Inojin was fussing over. "Bringing a _Sand_ ninja...to _our_ shop...and not just any ninja either, Shikadai! The Kazekage? Really?"

"Okay, you've _really_ lost it, haven't you?"

"You're the one who's lost it, Shikadai! The Kazekage is the leader of another village...when he comes to Konoha, it's purely for official business. You can't trust him to go romping around the shop owned by one of Konoha's most powerful clans!"

"One, Uncle Gaara is here on vacation right now, not that that matters, and I was the one brought him to your shop, not that that matters either. Two, he considers your parents his friends, and three, the Sand and Leaf are allies anyway so what is the big deal?"

"I thought you were smart, Shikadai!" Inojin buried his face in his hands for a few seconds. "We're _inside_ Konoha's walls right now. The Sand and Leaf may be allies, but they are _not_. Friends. Shikadai."

"What the hell is the difference? Allies, friends, whatever! And Uncle Gaara _is_ friends with people of Konoha, not to mention the least of, the _Hokage_!"

"The Kazekage and Hokage are allies, Shikadai, and the difference is that friends help each other, period. Allies help each other, because they have something to _gain_ from each other."

Shikadai stared at his friend in disbelief.

"So what could that possibly mean if the Kazekage shows up in the Yamanaka Flower Shop?"

Shikadai balled his hands into fists and shouted, "Like he could have anything to gain from a lowlife like you!"

Inojin snarled.

"Just cut the crap, Inojin, just stop. Gaara, ally or friend or not, is my _uncle_."

"Your dad knowingly sacrificed your right to have a normal uncle-nephew relationship with your uncles the minute he decided to marry the _Kazekage's_ _sister_."

"Don't drag Mom and Dad into this!" Shikadai exploded, pacing around. "And don't you dare talk about my uncles that way! Uncle Kankuro and Uncle Gaara are the best I could ever have asked for!"

"Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea who your uncles are? Sabaku no Gaara...you have no idea what Mom's told me about him—"

"Yeah? Well what _did_ Aunt Ino tell you about him behind our backs?"

"And have you ever taken a look at the guy? I've never seen anyone more cold in my life!"

Shikadai stopped short. He took several deep breaths, and in a suddenly eerily calm voice, said, "So you're judging people based on appearances now?"

Inojin recoiled for a second from the change in Shikadai's tone. "So what if I am?" he said carefully. "You look like a lazy, good-for-nothing slacker who doesn't give a shit about his friends or his village, yet calls himself a shinobi. And that's _exactly_ what you are!"

"And you look like a coward," Shikadai said, not skipping a beat. He turn smartly on his heel, not bothering to look back as he said, "Forget the Sand and Leaf, Inojin. I thought _we_ were friends."

He retreated back into the shop, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Shikadai couldn't believe he was doing this.

He was holding a bouquet of yellow flowers, on his way to give them to a girl.

To magnify the situation, his uncle was walking right alongside him. He didn't know if it was more or less awkward that the whole ordeal was his uncle's idea in the first place.

They had left the Yamanaka Flower Shop with Shikadai feeling as though smoke was still fuming from his ears. He had given a rather rude goodbye to Aunt Ino and Uncle Sai, and only after they had left the shop did he notice the oddity in his uncle's hands.

"What're those?" he asked.

Gaara looked down at his own hands, which were clutching a bouquet of yellow roses.

"They're roses," he replied.

"Yeah, but what for?"

"Our next destination."

Oh? Shikadai didn't know his uncle already had in mind a place to go next. "Where's that?"

"The Akimichis."

Uncle Gaara's answer caught Shikadai off guard. To Chouchou's house? What the...

"Why?"

"I've already met one of your teammates, and it seemed fitting to meet the other. Besides, the previous encounter showed me how satisfying it can be to seek out one's friends."

 _They didn't think of you as friends, Uncle Gaara._ "Oh, okay...and the flowers?"

"You have an ordeal to apologize for. Ino taught me that these are a symbol of friendship."

"Apologize—" Shikadai suddenly remembered training yesterday, and how he had used Chouchou's body to his advantage to win the match and quite possibly hurt her.

"Ah—it's just Chouchou though...we're good friends and she knows me really well...so...it's really not necessary—" Shikadai really just didn't want to show up at the Akimichi house with flowers in his hand. That spelled troublesome ten times over.

"A debt owed, however small, stands in the way of a friendship," came Gaara's words of wisdom. "Bonds of friendship are meant to be strengthened, not weakened. There is _nothing_ worth losing a friendship over."

Gaara looked at Shikadai meaningfully as he said this, and the burning intensity in those sea-foam eyes told Shikadai that his uncle had some idea of the ordeal he had had with Inojin earlier.

Shikadai swallowed, having no argument besides, "Troublesome," but not really wanting to say it now. However, he didn't think that presenting roses to Chouchou was any less embarrassing than before, so on their way, he stopped at Yahiniku Q and ordered a take-out of several boxes of barbeque.

"This is also a symbol of friendship," he'd muttered as an explanation to Uncle Gaara's questioning eyes.

Upon arriving at Chouchou's house, he knocked tentatively on the door several times, holding the flowers out of the way so as not to attract attention. Uncle Gaara stood behind him.

Soon, Chouji Akimichi stepped to the door and opened it. "Hey, Shikadai!"

The Head of the Akimichi clan was nervous when he saw the Kazekage and he didn't deny it to himself. However, Shikamaru was his best friend, and while Chouji had never spoken directly to Gaara himself, he knew from Shikamaru that the silent redhead was a good man. He observed how seemingly close his best friend's son was to Gaara, and Chouji decided that this was reason enough to welcome the Kazekage with open arms. "Hello, Gaara," he said.

Surprise, although it was a pleased one, flashed across Gaara's eyes at being acknowledged with his own name. "Chouji," Gaara returned.

Chouji's wife, the Cloud shinobi Karui, soon joined him at the door. "Well, look who's here, Shikadai," she smirked. "And if it isn't a personal visit from the Kazekage? Well, come on in!"

Karui, like Temari, was a foreign wife living in Konoha, and also like Temari, had worked closely with the Kage of her village before. Through the previous Raikage, A, she was somewhat familiar with the Kazekage, and she also knew about his Jinchuuriki status, like Killer B.

Shikadai noted with silent elation that Karui held none of Konoha's awkwardness towards Sunagakure's leader.

Karui led the guests into the living room, with her husband yelling, "Allow me to get some snacks!"

Shikadai and Gaara arrived in the living room to find Chouchou sitting there, rubbing a bandaged head (Shikadai realized guiltily that he'd been the one to cause that) and eating a bag of chips.

"Oh hey Shikadai!" the plump girl greeted, getting up as she noticed her teammate. "Hi there, you're Shikadai's uncle, aren't you?"

Gaara nodded once before removing the sand gourd from his back and placing it by his feet and sitting down. Chouchou scuttled over to Shikadai, and whispered in his ear, "He's hot!"

Shikadai turned red. "S-shut up!"

"And you still owe me for yesterday."

Before Shikadai had a chance to reply, Chouchou said, rather loudly, "So who's the unlucky chick?"

Shikadai was further mortified as he was reminded of the yellow roses in his hand. "As if...girls are too troublesome."

"Oh, so it's not for a girl?"

 _Dammit_.

"These are a symbol of friendship. It's a way to say sorry for hurting you yesterday." Shikadai tried to sound as formal and robotic as possible, and even gave a tiny bow as he handed the flowers to Chouchou, knowing that Uncle Gaara was watching the entire altercation.

Chouchou snorted. "Flowers?"

 _Not my idea_ , Shikadai mouthed, but Chouchou only snickered as she took them for Shikadai's hands.

"To further express my sincere regret and apology...I also got you this." He held out the barbeque.

Silence prevailed for several moments. "Is...that..." Chouchou began in disbelief.

Shikadai gave a lazy nod.

Chouchou all but dropped the flowers, forgotten onto the ground, as she squealed and wrenched the barbeque from her teammates hands. "BARBEQUE!" She seized Shikadai into a bone-crushing hug. "Omigosh I love you so much right now Shikadai everything is forgiven!"

"Get...off..." Shikadai struggled.

Chouchou obeyed, plopping back down onto the couch and tearing open the boxes of food before stuffing it into her mouth at an inhuman speed.

The rest of the visit was a pleasant one, during which Chouji had brought out a table full of food for the guests but had ended up finishing himself. The mood was relaxed, and the Akimichi family seemed to have no discomfort for being in such close proximity to the Kazekage. Gaara looked no different than he had when he'd been speaking with the Yamanakas, but Shikadai was sure that inside, Gaara could feel the friendly difference. Shikadai was happily impressed with his teammate and her family, and felt very different from the way he had upon leaving the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

They stayed at the Akimichis for much longer than they had at the Yamanakas, but eventually, Gaara got up to leave, slinging his gourd over his back. "Please come again, Gaara," Karui told the man.

"We really hope you have more time to visit Konoha like this in the future!" Chouji added. "Don't forget to drop by and say hi over the next few days either!"

"Bye-bye, Shikadai's uncle!" Chouchou exclaimed cordially.

Gaara gave them each a nod, before turning away and walking towards the door.

Shikadai felt his heart swell at Chouchou's affability—so unlike Inojin—and for good measure, gave her a hug, one-armed and sluggish as it was.

Chouchou hummed in a bit of surprise but patted her teammate on the shoulder. "I wouldn't mind if you had more things to apologize about, Shikadai!"

"Whatever..."

Shikadai joined his uncle at the door, but looked up at him when he suddenly stopped.

"Chouchou...Akimichi," he said.

He turned his head around and looked at the girl's golden eyes seriously. "Thank you for being Shikadai's friend."

With that, the Kazekage left the Akimichi household, his nephew following close behind.

After Chouji and Karui had closed the door, they turned around to see what their daughter was doing—she was bein uncharacteristically silent, after all.

They found her, standing with her palms pressed together and bulging hearts in her eyes.

"Was I born in Sunagakure, by any chance?" she asked.

"Um, no..." Karui answered tentatively.

"'Cause I bet the Kazekage is my real dad!"

Both of Chouchou's parents facepalmed. "Not again..."

* * *

That evening, Shikadai found himself having dinner with no less than two Kages of the Five Great Shinobi Nations...at Ichiraku Ramen.

Naruto Uzumaki had invited his long-time friend Gaara for supper, and Shikadai had been allowed to tag along...he liked ramen, _but the Hokage's obsession is rather troublesome,_ he thought, as the blonde man slurped bowl after bowl after bowl of the noodles.

After the depressing ordeal at the Yamanakas earlier that day, in which Shikadai had discovered the less-than-positive opinions that existed for his uncle he wasn't able to understand at all, he was happy to meet with someone he knew that, without a doubt, considered Uncle Gaara a friend. The merit of the friendship was questioned, however, when Shikadai noticed that the Hokage was simply blabbing nonsense away over his ramen, while the Kazekage sat silently with little no response.

 _Uncle Naruto treats everyone this way...does he really consider Uncle Gaara a friend?_

He picked at his noodles, pondering the troubling question in his head.

"Hey Gaara..."

Shikadai snapped to attention at the suddenly serious tone in Uncle Naruto's voice. Uncle Naruto was many things, but serious was not one of them.

 _This could be interesting._

"After everything that happened in the past...isn't it great where we are now? I mean, you're the Kazekage, and I've become the most awesome Hokage Konoha's ever seen...! ...heheh, ya know..."

"No, it's true."

"You're pretty amazing too, Gaara...I mean, you became Kazekage way before I did! And your sand powers are way cool!"

"It was merely a matter of circumstance."

"You had to work real hard to get there, ya know! Don't try to deny it! You're the only Kage who fought in the Fourth Shinobi War, ya know? You really did help save the world..."

"What is the purpose of all this praise?"

"Aw, nothing, Gaara. It just amazes me how far we've made it together, with the pain we share...Even till now you're the only one who completely understands... And there's no way we could've saved the world without you during the war! And Sakura told me...you personally saved my life too. So I...guess we're even now, aren't we?"

"No."

"Come on, Gaara, you saved my life! I'd be dead if it weren't for you!"

"That may be so, but _you_ saved my soul."

Shikadai gawked at the conversation that he was clearly not a part of. Uncle Naruto had spoken so seriously, for once—or at least, had spoken of serious matters...and what could his own uncle Gaara possibly mean...?

 _You saved my soul...?_

Shikadai had never been at a stalemate with a shougi opponent for so long before. He needed some answers soon about Uncle Gaara, lest he go crazy.

The Hokage's voice turned loud again, snapping Shikadai out of his thoughts.

"Shikadai! I almost forgot to tell ya!"

Shikadai suddenly had a bad feeling about this...

"I was watching you train yesterday and I was so impressed..."

 _Uh-oh._

"You're clearly Chunin level already, so I thought I'd give your team a perfect mission! It's a C-rank and you'll be on an escort mission outside the village! Isn't that exciting!"

 _No._

Shikadai had never been outside the village before. However, C was a higher rank of a mission than his usual D-rank, and an escort mission sounded outside the village sounded like a lot of work, so that only summed up to troublesome in his mind.

"Tr—" he began.

And for the first time in his life, Shikadai found himself unable to finish saying his trademark expression.

It wasn't that the mission wasn't troublesome. No...it was a C-rank escort mission out of the village; it truly was the epitome of the word...

But as Shikadai tried to say it, a foreign chill suddenly crept up his spine, settling at the back of his neck and making his hair stand on end. He was frozen to the spot, paralyzed, and he felt as if someone dangerous was breathing down his neck and yet he had no idea who.

A heavy weight seemed to crush his bones and a feeling of fear and dread clutched at his heart, dragging it painfully and threatening to strangle him from the inside.


	5. Chapter 4: Hatching

**Author's Note: Here I am again, with perhaps the quickest update in the history of this story. The two main reasons are that 1) this chapter is a little shorter than the others, and 2) I simply can't wait to begin the chapter after this one.**

 **I know that many of you were practically screaming, "Action! Action!" by the end of Chapter 3, and I promise I'll give it to you soon. However, before anything like that happens, I had to have something akin to Chapter 4 here.**

 **So enjoy this chapter, and your job now is not to die before I post Chapter 5.**

 **P.S. I call this chapter "short", but it's still a good 4600-ish words. Commendable? I hope so. Review if you'd like, and give it a chance! Don't judge a book by its cover or a chapter by its length...I believe this chapter indeed possesses some of my best writing.**

Chapter 4—Hatching

They were currently conducting illegal activity and violating the laws of no less than two Great Shinobi Nations.

Konohagakure and Sunagakure were allies, but information regarding their shinobi and their missions were considered confidential. Unless the shinobi and/or missions held some level of importance to or affected both villages, the two hidden villages were not allowed, under any circumstances, to disclose information regarding their own shinobi and/or missions to the other other.

Regardless, between the altercation of Konohagakure's Hokage, Sunagakure's Kazekage, and the son of Konoha's Nara Clan head and Sunagakure's Kazekage's sister at Ichiraku Ramen—they couldn't care less.

Naruto Uzumaki glanced at Shikadai, to whom he had just assigned a mission. The boy was dumbly staring with his mouth hanging slightly open.

Naruto, oblivious as ever, did not realize that the boy's body was nearly paralyzed, tongue twisted, mind racing, and heart rattling against his rib cage, threatening to tear itself out. The Hokage simply took Shikadai's silent reception to the news as general nonchalance.

"Hehehe...I know what you're thinking, Shikadai...troublesome, right? You are _so_ like your dad, believe it! As my adviser you don't know how many times he complains every day, all I hear is troublesome this, troublesome that..." Naruto continued to prattle on about meaningless, useless things.

Gaara, whose constantly heightened senses bordered inhuman, had perceived the boy's spontaneous alarm immediately. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the mission Ino-Shika-Chou had just been assigned to, and yet its announcement seemed to ride in on a tide of forebode. He felt the sand in the gourd shift slightly of its own will—as if itching to take action about...something.

The same sea-foam green eyes that had watched Shikadai with affection narrowed their dark rims as Gaara's eyes suddenly turned threatening.

"...oh, and make sure you don't tell Boruto about this get-together, Shikadai! He'll kill me if he finds out Gaara brought you and I didn't bring him—"

"What is the mission?"

Gaara's deep voice cut cleanly through Naruto's speech like a knife. Normally, Gaara was a patient listener who had the capacity to sit through the hours of Naruto's nonsense rambling no one else was willing to sit through, but with the current circumstance, Gaara abandoned such behavior.

"Huh? Oh, Shikadai's mission?" The Hokage squinted his eyes at the Kazekage, boldly looking back at him in the eyes. Naruto Uzumaki was one of the few people who were apparently immune to Sabaku no Gaara's lethal gaze, which could sometimes even lock his own siblings in the confines of deep terror. Naruto, who knew Gaara very well, sensed something change in the man's mannerism, but didn't think too deeply of it—Naruto never thought too deeply of anything.

Either he was ignoring it, or his own cheerful personality was so overpowering that he was oblivious to it, but Naruto completely disregarded the gravity of the situation hanging in the air. Instead, he grinned foxily at Gaara, eyes turning to slits and rows of white teeth flashing. "Y'know, Gaara, it is _supposed_ to be 'confidential information'...you sure you want me to tell you?"

Gaara didn't even blink or move a single muscle to acknowledge Naruto's teasing, who continued, undeterred.

"You know how those naggy old hags on the council are! We'll get in biiiiig trouble if they find out the Hokage's secretly slipping information to the Kazekage..."

No response. Both Gaara and Shikadai knew the last thing the Hokage cared about was the opinion of the council...if he really did, he would not be yelling all of this out loud in the middle of public.

"I'll take that as a yes? Huh, Gaara? Huh, huh?"

Eventually even Naruto got bored of talking to Gaara non-responsive unchanging face.

"Ya know, talking to you is like talking to a wall sometimes, Gaara!" Naruto yelled. "Anyway, Shikadai's team is going on the mission with Mirai Sarutobi, since they're all still technically genins and need someone to watch over them, _juuuuust_ in case. And the mission's for one of our long-time clients. His name's Ryomen and he's this really cool dude who's super nice and funny and every time he comes by he brings gifts and candies for all of us! Haha, I bet Chouchou will love that, won't she? Honestly, it will be more like a vacation going on a mission with him, Shikadai, believe it!"

Naruto flashed a thumbs-up at Gaara and Shikadai in attempt to get one of them to respond—to no avail, shrugged, and continued anyways.

"Anyways, he comes to Konoha every so often because the village he lives in doesn't grow crops very well and so he has to come here to get a supply of food and vegetables and stuff so the villagers don't die of starvation! It's a really small village that doesn't have any shinobi, they're only a few civilian families that live there and I think most of them are artisans or something like that! Ryomen says he's the one who's got to make these trips back and forth to Konoha all the time because he's sort of leads the village, said he's the—patrion—or something—"

"Patriarch," Gaara corrected.

"Eheheheh, right, what you said—so it's the same sort of thing this time. He's returning to his village with supplies and he's always asks for escorts to and from there. I don't think the road's even dangerous or anything, he just likes the company! Usually I assign chunins for Ryomen, but this time I thought since Shikadai is awesome and all—"

"What is the name of his village?" Gaara interjected.

"Hm? Ryomen's village?" Naruto scrunched his face up rather comically and scratched the back of his head in thought. "Ahhh—you know what? I can't remember," he said sheepishly. _And he calls himself the Hokage_ , thought Shikadai. "But I know it's in the Land of Wind—"

"Why would a client from the Land of Wind be employing the use of Konoha shinobi?"

"Hey, stop that, Mr. Let's-interrupt-Mister-Naruto-Uzumaki-today!" Naruto shoved an accusing finger right under Gaara's nose. Gaara allowed his eyes to travel down momentarily to the offending appendage, although he somehow avoided going cross-eyed. His eyes snapped back up and looked at the Hokage once more with renewed disregard of the hand inches from his face. He didn't move it out of the way or move out of its way—obstacles in Gaara's path always removed themselves, not the other way around.

Naruto put his hand down only to smile slyly at his stoic comrade. An outsider would've surely been amused by their odd interaction. "Hey Gaara...are you jealous?"

No, he wasn't, and Gaara took Naruto's teasing seriously. "No, that's not it. It doesn't matter to me if he favors the use of Konoha shinobi, and if it benefits your village...as a friend, it benefits me as well. However, I can't help but question his intentions. In the past, Konoha ninja were indeed superior to Suna shinobi, but since...those Chunin Exams long ago, the aptitude of Suna shinobi has increased considerably. In addition, it would be much more economical for...Ryomen to employ shinobi from the Land of Wind, since there the Five Great Shinobi Nations impose a tax on foreign clients."

"Ha, just admit that Konoha shinobi are way more awesome than you Sand ninja, Gaara!"

Gaara paused for a few moments in thought, before asking, "When is the mission?"

"It's in two more days! Don't forget to get ready, Shikadai!"

"On the day of the Five Kage Summit?" the Kazekage inquired.

"Oh yeah, I hadn't realized that! Oops, I almost forgot about having to attend that boooooring meeting..."

Gaara's eyes narrowed even further. "Conveniently on the day all five Kage are unavailable because of the summit," he stated.

Naruto dismissed the notion with a wild gesture of his arm. "I swear, Gaara, my friend," he said, as he slapped the man on the back, "you always think too much, believe it! Come on, loosen up a bit! Laugh a little, eat some ramen! Hey look, you still haven't eaten even half your portion!" The Hokage gave a gasp of horror. "Oh Lord Kazekage how could you _possibly_ leave ramen unfinished?"

Gaara turned back to look at the bowl of ramen before him, though he had and showed no intention of eating it. He eyed it—almost suspiciously, as if it were hiding secrets from him within the curly noodles and broth.

Shikadai, who still hadn't said a word since the discovery of his upcoming mission, took a deep breath and a gulp as the tidbits of information regarding C-rank assignment swam in his head. He, too, turned back to his unfinished and cooling noodles, but no matter how hard he tried, couldn't muster up any desire to eat them anymore.

* * *

The sun had had a long day's journey through the sky, and was now, with the last of its rays, pulling the horizon over itself as it headed for bed. The first glimpse of darkness was covering Konoha, and one by one, the city lights blinked to life.

Shikadai was supposed to be home. Even for the industrious shinobi, now was the time to be resting. Shinobi had no place to be frolicking about outside the night before a mission out of their village.

Uncle Kankuro and Uncle Gaara had had dinner at the house together with Shikadai and his parents—the last they would have while Gaara was still on "vacation", since the Five Kage Summit and a busy schedule began the next day—and after they had left, Shikadai had announced his intentions to leave the house for a while.

And exasperated Temari had reprimanded her son, "What's this? Normally you do everything to get the last bit of sleep and now I'm telling you to stay home and get some sleep and you're telling me you want to go out and _play_? Do you go _out_ of your way to drive me crazy? You have your first mission out of the village tomorrow, you know. Do you have no idea what it means to be a shinobi? All right then, I'll spell it out for you. A good shinobi equals lots of energy. Lots of energy equals _lots of rest_!"

Normally, Shikadai would have acquiesced, albeit with a grumbled "Troublesome woman." That's why the way he acted today was so uncharacteristic.

The nonchalant, defiant Shikadai Nara had begged— _begged_ —his mother to allow him to go. Standing behind her, he saw his father looking at him, surprised and suspicious.

To the surprise of them both, Temari had looked him in the eye for several moments...and almost as if _seeing_ something within them, had suddenly looked away and said, quietly, "Off you go, then."

After the boy had left, Shikamaru turned to his wife and asked, testily, "What was that all about?"

The fearsome kunoichi shrugged. "I don't know how, but I can feel that there's something...inexplicable about that mission tomorrow. He needs this," she said simply, and although Shikamaru didn't fully understand, he knew when not to argue with that serious, no-kidding glint in his wife's eyes.

 _Trudge. Trudge._ Shikadai watched his own feet bring him up the incline of his favorite hill. He felt a strange feeling overcome him, and he suddenly felt like an entity apart from himself as he watched a boy named Shikadai Nara march up the hill.

 _Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four..._ he counted. Normally, Shikadai begrudgingly counted the number of troublesome steps he had taken during his ascension of the hill.

Today, with every step forward that he took, he was reminded that each one was _one less till the end_.

He tried to shake to shake himself from his unfounded pessimism. _One less step till I reach the top and get to stop climbing_ , he tried to convince himself. Tried.

He dug his feet a little deeper into the grass, trying hard not to forget where he was—and who he was.

He himself didn't understand why he was feeling this way—the way he had since dinner that night at Ichiraku Ramen. It was like being blindfolded and locked in a cage with a beast he couldn't see or hear but _knew_ was there.

Why was he so desperate to arrive atop his little hill to watch the clouds tonight? Tonight—the night before _the_ mission—the night he'd groveled before his mother and the night she'd been suddenly understanding, almost irrationally so. He didn't know why, but there was something about the prospect of tomorrow that made every cell in his body urge him to come to his cloud-watching hill _right now_ , because there was something about this time that would be special. If he missed it tonight, he'd miss it forever.

 _Miss what?_ he wondered. He looked up that the sky, still blanketed in clouds even in the cover of night. He listened to the whispering wind, which he could feel was trying to tell him something. However, for all of Shikadai's intellect, he could not understand the foreign language that belonged to the wind. He listened to his beating heart, the knell to which rhythm he walked.

Finally, he ran out of steps to take as he reached the top of the hill at last. Going for the usual, he lay down with his arms folded behind his head, although he took out his ponytail in order to feel the wind run through his hair a little better. Facing the clouds, he stared at the objects of his envy once again. _So free.._

 _This is troublesome. Mom's right; what the hell am I doing watching clouds right now? I have a mission tomorrow—and look at me! I should be heading back and going to sleep..._

He snorted to himself at that. _Who am I kidding? You know it's pointless..._

He was Shikadai Nara, the prince of snoozes and lethargy, and for the past few nights, he'd lain in bed for many nocturnal hours of wakeful sleeplessness.

 _"Sleep evades those who are insane," Uncle Gaara said._

Shikadai's mind was like an empty chamber through which Uncle Gaara's words echoed again and again, ricocheting off one wall only to bounce off another. He looked up at the clouds and suddenly burst out laughing. He couldn't come up with any answer as to what was so amusing, but he couldn't seem to help the throaty sound from escaping his lips.

He continued his pointless chuckling for several more minutes, hating the sound and yet addicted to it. For some reason, it felt better than doing nothing.

When he stopped, he did so because he felt something was coming. What it was, he didn't know, but he could feel its presence down to his very bones.

He heard a low hissing sound coming from behind him, followed by the soft sound of crunching grass beneath someone's shoes. A low thud came from beside him as the person set something heavy on the ground and sat down next to Shikadai. From the corner of his eye, he saw crimson.

They sat there in silence for a long time, both of their eyes were directed towards the heavens above.

"Uncle Gaara..." Shikadai said, voice barely over a whisper. The man beside him did not reply, but as it always was with Uncle Gaara, he somehow knew that he was listening.

"You're from the Land of Wind..." Shikadai paused, inhaling a deep breath of evening air before slowly letting it out. "What's the wind trying to tell me?"

Shikadai continued looking up at the clouds, but he could tell his uncle was watching him now. Those sea-foam eyes seemed to do more than see—they spoke.

A long silence prevailed before Gaara broke it. "Change," he answered simply.

Quiet settled over them for yet another stretch of time as Shikadai contemplated how Uncle Gaara's words seemed to tell him everything and nothing at the same time. The last of the sun's rays whispered goodbye over the horizon, and darkness finally engulfed the sky.

Shikadai felt Uncle Gaara get up from beside him, and again heard the shifting of sand, although it seemed to last much longer this time. When he finally tore his gaze from the clouds in the dark sky to look at Uncle Gaara, he saw him standing on a platform of sand hovering a few inches above the ground. Next to him was another platform of sand, although it was still settled on the grass. Uncle Gaara's body language gave away nothing; he was standing still and straight with tightly crossed arms over his chest, but his eyes were those of invitation.

Shikadai got up and walked over to Uncle Gaara, tentatively putting one foot onto the sand platform. It was surprisingly sturdy, and he didn't hesitate to put the rest of his body weight onto it. He looked around after getting on; the sand was wide enough for him to lie down on.

Shikadai noticed Uncle Gaara flick his fingers, silently commanding the sand to rise up into the air, bringing its occupants with it.

Shikadai had expected adrenaline to attack him as their elevation slowly but surely increased higher and higher, but strangely, he only started feeling calmer and calmer. As the burden of his own weight left the earth, he felt the weight of a burden leave his own spirit.

They had reached an elevation in which the air had thinned and cooled considerably, and Shikadai saw his own breath condensing into clouds of their own. Nevertheless, the cold somehow couldn't reach him—his spirit was already flying free, and he only felt warmth. Uncle Gaara commanded the sand to stop ascending, and they hovered for a few moments before cruising through the sky at a slow speed.

 _I've always wished I were a cloud, floatin' around...is this what it's like?_

Shikadai decided to make use of the spaciousness of his sand platform and laid down on his back, watching his breath float up and become one with the clouds blanketing the sky. The clouds had always seemed so far away and unreachable—and _now they were at his fingertips._ He felt as if he had cheated humanity—transcended it, being where he was.

Shikadai was slightly startled when he heard Uncle Gaara's voice again.

"The clouds...they please you." It was a statement, not a question.

Shikadai nodded. "They're so...free," he murmured.

Uncle Gaara nodded back—he, of all people, knew what it was like to desire freedom.

"Finding solace in the sky...it seems that is something we have in common."

Shikadai turned to look at Uncle Gaara. The man was sitting on his platform of sand, his arms sprawled over his knees, back against his gourd, and head tilted upward as he too looked at what lay above him.

Shikadai was slightly surprised. He'd always associated his hobby with laziness, and thus had not expected it to be an activity the Kazekage enjoyed. _Does Uncle Gaara like watching clouds too...?_

As if reading his mind, Uncle Gaara answered for him, "Clouds are few in number in the desert. Just as it is difficult for humans to traverse the sands...it is difficult for clouds to traverse the skies. However, there is one thing that is always undeterred...

"The stars."

For some reason, Shikadai's breath hitched as he listened to the way Uncle Gaara said those words. He knew there had to be an explanation, so he waited for it.

"I like to think that the reason Sunagakure sleeps soundly at night is because the stars...are watching over them..." Gaara continued. "Clouds come and go in an instant—within the blink of an eye they leave one's life for eternity...and the second you take to reach out to grasp them is never enough to keep them from slipping away...true, the clouds will always be there, as old ones drift away and new ones drift in to replace them, but with every new cloud you're reminded that it's not the same as the cloud you knew yesterday...

"But the stars...they're an infinite times farther away than the clouds, and for as long as man lives he shall never reach them...however, one can watch the skies every night and know that the stars watching him at the very moment are the same stars he saw yesterday, and the same stars that will return to watch him tomorrow. They venture the same path across the sky every night, and that is a fact humans cannot run from.

"The stars can never touch the ones they so faithfully watch over night after night, but perhaps it is enough to simply be able to watch the ones they love...forever. That is why...I strive to be like the stars...to always be watching over the people who need me..."

Slowly, Gaara's eyes travelled down and away from the sky. Shikadai sat up and, following his gaze, suddenly found himself looking down at the village of Konohagakure. He couldn't help but gasp.

There it was—the village he had grown up in, known all his life, and taken for granted—its twinkling lights reminding Shikadai of fireflies shining back up at him. From here, he could see everything—the green forests, the Hokage tower, the Hokage mountain looming behind it with seven stone faces looking out at the numerous buildings that dotted the land...

Shikadai remembered standing at the foot of those mountains, staring in awe at their grandeur and sheer size. He remembered walking through Konoha's winding streets, reveling (and complaining) about how long and expansive thew were. And now—

He brought a trembling hand before him and reached out, as if trying to touch the city he thought he knew so well—

His hand touched only empty air, but it completely obscured his view of the tiny little village below.

 _This life...humanity...everything we go about every day without a second thought...is it really just so small? Is this really all it is?_

 _...What is it?_

Shikadai stared at his own hand for the longest time, awed and speechless by Uncle Gaara's speech and the view his high position granted him. Gingerly, he removed his hand from his own line of vision, watching as the village Konoha, dotted with tiny lights and buildings, reappeared and sparkled back up at him.

The clouds above continued drifting about and away as he sat in silent contemplation. Eternity had passed when a rustling sound shook him out of his stupor. He glanced at Uncle Gaara and noticed the man reaching for something within his mahogany robes.

Shikadai was suddenly unquenchably curious as to what is what Uncle Gaara was taking out of his robes. He watched the pale hand reach for something...and pull out...an hourglass?

To his surprise, Uncle Gaara held it out to him. "This is for you," the man said.

"F-for me?"

Shikadai was a little dumbstruck—Uncle Kankuro was usually the one who gave him odd gifts. Uncle Gaara may have been a lot of things...but the gift-giving type?

Shikadai walked over to the edge of his sand platform, knowing that if he took one step further he'd become nothing more than a splatter on the ground within a few seconds. He didn't feel nervous at all—Uncle Gaara was watching him.

Uncle Gaara held out the hourglass, which Shikadai received with both hands. He noted that the smooth glass wasn't freezing, as he'd expected it to be. He watched, mesmerized, as the sand trickled from one bulb to the other. He turned it around, wanting to watch the sand shift and fall the other direction, only to be dumbfounded when the sand continued trickling in its original direction, now eerily trickling...upward.

 _This...isn't...scientifically...possible..._ The gears in his head slowed down.

"The sand in that hourglass is infused in my chakra," Uncle Gaara explained. "The sand is a symbol of your heritage, and the hourglass is the insignia of Sunagakure...Also, it symbolizes that as family...the only thing that stands between us is time, and even that is not enough to...sever our bonds." That explained why the sand defied gravity and continued trickling the way it pleased.

Shikadai had a ridiculous urge to start crying. _Stop it, Shikadai_. He chided himself. _If you cry up at here at this elevation, your tears might turn to ice_.

He realized, quite happily, that the lost feeling he had felt while lying atop the hill had now vanished from his body. He was thousands of feet up in the air floating on a bunch of earth, and he felt like he belonged. _I'm Shikadai Nara_ , he remembered.

He held up the hourglass to observe it further; the sand was still apparently disobeying the laws of science. Watching the flow of the sand, he suddenly noticed that it was slightly sparkling.

"Why is the sand so...sparkly?" he asked. The words fell out his mouth a bit awkwardly and the question sounded strange to his own ears.

"It's been mixed with Gold Dust."

Gold Dust? Shikadai had never heard of such a thing before, although he concluded that it was probably...gold powder.

"Why?"

"I was under the impression that humans found shiny things aesthetically pleasing." _And the Gold Dust is also part of your heritage, Shikadai. You just don't know it._

Shikadai snickered at Uncle Gaara's response, although he wondered why his uncle separated himself from the rest of the human race.

Clutching the hourglass in hands, firmly but not so tightly so as not to damage the fragile thing, Shikadai lay back down onto the bed of sand. He turned his head to look at his uncle again.

He received the full force of the two glowing green orbs. They told a million things and nothing at once.

 _Those eyes...they don't have any darkness within them, but I can tell...they've seen every corner of darkness in the world._

Uncle Gaara's eyes had never been shielded before; they saw everything, knew everything. Shikadai gulped when he realized that the shougi game against Uncle Gaara's secrets he had been so determined to win would not be any other victory; he would not simply skip along as the pieces were moved around the rectangular board. With each piece he maneuvered he might venture somewhere dark, cruel, and painful beyond his imagination.

He wondered if he would be able to stomach the story.

 _I'm Uncle Gaara's nephew,_ he reminded himself. _If he can, then so can I._

"Thanks," he breathed out into the evening air.

His focus shifted back to the vial of sand in his hands. He rested it against his heart and was pleased how warm it felt against his chest. He swore he could feel the hourglass pulsing with life—a little heartbeat beating in tandem with his own.

* * *

When Gaara looked at Shikadai again after a long silence, he found the boy curled up around his new present, eyes closed and sleeping soundly. Every trace of worry and stiffness had been erased from his face and body, and looking at him, Gaara realized that Shikadai practically screamed innocence.

The sand beneath Shikadai's head rose by few inches to form a makeshift pillow, while a stream of sand rose from Gaara's gourd to shape itself into a large sheet that blanketed the young shinobi, shielding him from nature and the cold.

Gaara looked back up at the sky just in time to see a small patch of clouds give way and reveal a corner of the endless, ebony night sky behind it. Within that small corner, two twinkling stars blinked back down at him.

"Mother...Father..." the Kazekage whispered. He looked back down at his nephew for a few moments before returning his gaze on the two bright stars.

"Please protect him."


	6. Chapter 5: Violent Birth

**Author's Note: Chapter 5-Here it's! I hope most of you are still alive from the wait...**

 **This chapter was insanely difficult to write. Many perfectly healthy strands of hair on my head were lost due to my constant pulling...for me, only my desire to hear your feedback kept me alive and writing. So seriously-it may sound insane, crazy, and slightly masochistic, but I want to know how much you hate this chapter. Please review!**

Chapter 5—Violent Birth

"Did you eat enough breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Good. Have you packed all your weapons for the mission?"

"Yes, Mother."

"All right, and how about food and water? You're going on a two-day mission; you have to make sure you have enough—"

" _Yes_ , ma'am."

"Don't underestimate the importance of water, Shikadai. You grew up in a place where water is plentiful, but in the Land of Wind—"

"For the last time, I know, _YourMajesty_. We're not even going to the desert; the village is near the Fire-Wind border, and there's still forests around there."

" _Don't use that tone with me, Shikadai!_ " Temari yelled. Crossing her arms, she sighed and shook her head. "That attitude of yours is going to get you into big trouble some day."

"Like right now?"

" _Shikadai!_ "

Temari was about to give chase to her son—who was currently scrambling away—when she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Give the kid a break, Temari," Shikamaru drawled, though the look he shot at his son said _Don't provoke the she-devil_. "You don't want him to hurt him before his mission..."

Shikadai and Shikamaru packed the last of the things they would need for the day—Shikamaru for the Five Kage Summit and Shikadai for his mission. They would walk together to the Hokage Tower; where Shikadai would be meeting with his team, on which chunin Mirai Sarutobi was included this time, and their client, Ryomen, and where the Hokage would brief them on the mission's final details.

Shikadai went to his room momentarily to pick up one final provision, during which Shikamaru seized the opportunity to spin his wife around and "look" at her.

"What?" Temari said brusquely.

"You know, once Shikadai's off on the mission, he'll be out of our hair for _two days_..."

"Exactly. It's the perfect time for you to finish your paperwork without any distractions."

"Jeez, troublesome woman, couldn't a man spend two days of alone time with his wife relaxing?" Subtly, he began snaking an arm around her waist.

"That depends on your behavior," Temari answered. "And if your hand goes any further, I'll rip your balls off."

Shikamaru believed her—for good reason—and scratched the back of his head in defeat, and the couple stepped away from each other just in time for their only son to reenter, having picked up what he needed from his room.

"You ready?" Shikamaru asked.

"Yup," Shikadai answered, slipping Uncle Gaara's hourglass into his pouch.

At the door, Shikamaru tried to give Temari a chaste kiss on the lips only for her to slap his face aside, causing the kiss to miss its target. Shikamaru blushed, mumbling "Troublesome," while Temari smirked in triumph. Shikadai rolled his eyes at his parents' antics before holding his hand up in a lazy wave.

"Bye, Mom."

Temari surprised Shikadai all of a sudden by grasping him with both hands by the shoulders. For a moment of bewilderment, he thought his mother was going to _hug_ him. That is, until he remembered exactly who his mother was.

"My baby's going on a mission out of the village for the first time today," she said with complete seriousness in her eyes. "Do me a favor and bring him back in one piece, got it?"

Shikadai smiled—not a lopsided grin or mischievous smirk, but a real, genuine smile—and said, "I love you too, Mom."

Ryomen lived in a village named Kyokai near the border of the Fire and Wind Countries; it was _just_ south enough to be considered part of latter country. Since the end of the Fourth Great Shinobi War and the strengthening of the Suna-Konoha alliance, a well-paved road had been built between the two villages, and what originally would have been a three-day journey for normal shinobi between the two cities was now reduced to one. A few shops and restaurants had opened along the road to provide for travelling shinobi.

For a shinobi, Kyokai would have been only a few hours travel from Konoha; however, since Shikadai and his team would be escorting a civilian, they had to travel at normal pace, and thus, the journey would take a day. Kyokai was an artisan town so small that it didn't appear on any maps of the Wind Country. Konoha had escorted Ryomen on many missions to Kyokai, however, and thus Shikadai had been informed on its location despite its absence on a map. Three-quarters of their journey would be spent on the Suna-Konoha road, they would have to traverse through wilderness for the last part of the journey, since Kyokai was so small that no proper road led to it. Shikadai wasn't too worried about that part—the growth had been reported to scraggly, the trees thin and scarce, the soil mostly rocky—since the climate near Kyokai, though not yet desert, had gained some of the Land of Wind's characteristic aridness.

The mission was an easy one—not to mention that Mirai would be going with them, but the churning feeling still returned to Shikadai's gut every time he thought about it.

He slipped a hand into his pouch sand idly fingered the Uncle Gaara's hourglass, imagining the continuous trickling of the shiny sand.

"Hey, Shikadai, you feeling alright?" The sound of his father's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Sure; why do you ask?"

"Heh; it's a drag, but as your father, I'm expected to give you 'fatherly advice' and help you get through emotional shit..." Shikamaru answered with a shrug and smirk.

Shikadai snickered. "Since when have you cared about what people expect you do?" He suddenly realized what his father had just said and frowned up at him. "And since when did I have any 'emotional shit' I needed your help to get through?"

Shikamaru closed his eyes and shook his head mockingly. "Language, Shikadai."

Father and son burst out laughing at that, knowing that the elder didn't couldn't care less the issue at hand: "We're shinobi; I say we say whatever the hell we want before we die or something," was Shikamaru's rationalization. Both of Shikadai's parents had no qualms about the use of "language", and Shikadai found himself so used to it that he didn't find the need to swear like some teenagers who were going through the "rebellious" stage, nor did he use vulgar words unless the offending party deserved it.

"I'm fine, Dad." Shikadai sobered a bit, feeling a bit more comfortable to open up to his father. "To tell the truth, though, there's something about this mission that makes me uneasy," he confessed. "I know it's stupid, but...something about it gives me the creeps, but I can't figure out what or why..."

"It's not stupid, Shikadai," Shikamaru assured his son, gaining a serious demeanor. "The life of a shinobi isn't an easy one, and feeling on edge is perfectly normal, and it's nothing to be ashamed of, either. I'm not going to tell you your mission's gonna be fine, because I don't know that. However, I've met Ryomen lots of times and he seems like an okay guy, I guess. Whatever happens, good or bad, will be a learning experience for you." Shikamaru patted Shikadai on the head. "And don't forget that you have family and comrades waiting for you back home."

Shikadai felt warmness spread in his chest as he thought of all the people who cared for him—his mom, his dad...and his uncles...

"Thanks, Dad."

The pair had arrived at the Hokage Tower and was now approaching Naruto's office. Pushing the door open, Shikadai found Chouchou, Inojin, and Mirai already there. Chouchou, who had been talking animatedly to Inojin, spared Shikadai a cordial glance and continued talking, although stiffness immediately spread to Inojin's posture and his eyes turned a little cold as they regarded the teammate with which he had had a falling out a few days ago. Shikadai returned a sour look at Inojin.

Mirai met Shikamaru, whom she affectionately called "Big Brother" out of habit (even though she was closer in age to his son than to him), and gave him a warm hug. Having been familiar with Shikadai since he was born, she noticed something off about his demeanor. "Hey, little one..." she said, referring to her old nickname for him, "How're you doing?"

Shikadai's eyes didn't leave Inojin's. "Could be better," he huffed.

Inojin's eyes narrowed. "Bastard," he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Asshole," Shikadai returned, although he was purposefully louder.

"Hey hey hey! What's with all the hate, boys?" Naruto yelled. Chouchou, too, had noticed the drama occurring between her two male teammates, and were watching them with interest and a raised eyebrow. Shikamaru, oblivious to the the fight his son and Inojin had had, also looked on curiously.

When the hateful looks did not subside, Naruto jumped dramatically _onto_ and _over_ his desk—dismaying Shikamaru as he upturned several piles of paperwork in the process ("Troublesome idiot, can't you walk _around_ your own desk like normal people do?")—and dug his hands into the boys' hair. "Hey, let's all be friends before the big mission, okay? There, there!" He childishly shoved both boys in one another's direction, which seemed to repulse the both of them equally as much.

Mirai and Chouchou looked at each other and shrugged at the comedy—which was interrupted by a few knocks at the door.

"Ooh, that's gotta be him!" Naruto cried. He ran to the door, stopping short of it to calm himself down and straighten his robes, before stepping forward and swinging it open. "Heyyyyy!"

"Naruto! It's good to see you again!"

Hugs and claps on the back were exchanged. A man in his mid-fifties with short black hair and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes stepped into the room. His eyes were a deep shade of ocean blue, and though it was reminiscent of the ocean it was nothing like the sea blue-green (that Shikamaru was so fond of) of Shikadai's maternal family and Shikadai himself. He was tall and well built, and his skin would have been pale if not for a slight tan. His clothes were casual, if not slightly baggy. He carried a pack on his pack, presumably filled with storage scrolls of the supplies he needed to bring back to Kyokai.

Inojin and Chouchou felt whatever little nervousness they had felt about their mission subside as they viewed the friendliness and familiarity of the man they would be escorting. He hadn't even addressed the Hokage formally, had given Mirai a hug—Mirai had escorted him numerous times before—and had shaken hands with Shikamaru. The man was obviously jovial, and the two genin began to understand why the Hokage had been so enthusiastic—and carefree—about assigning them this particular mission. They were friends.

"This is team Ino-Shika-Chou!" Naruto announced. "I know that we usually have chunin teams escort you, but these three are reeeeeal special! They're the best of the best genin teams, and I just know they'll be ascending rank soon! Believe it!"

"Haha, no biggie at all! Fresh meat is always game, hahaha!"

"Yup; these are _my_ little rascals!" Mirai proclaimed, hugging the two male members of the team close to her for a few seconds, while the two of them simultaneously thought how they were sick of being manhandled so much in the span of one morning.

"Ah, so these are the ones you told me about, Mirai? I'm guessing you're...Inojin, then?" the man referred at the blonde boy, who nodded back with his smile in place.

"And you're..."

"Chouchou!" the girl introduced. "Hey, is it true that you give out candy to your escorts?"

"Sure it is! And not just any kind; these are delicacies of Kyokai!" The man rummaged through his deep pockets and his hands returned with handfuls of wrapped treats; Chouchou's golden eyes widened like she'd found a treasure, and they widened even further when the man poured his supply into her own hands. Chouchou's fingers suddenly became nimble as she unfoiled the plastic wrappers and popped several candies into her mouth. "MMM!" she hummed in flavorful ecstasy.

"Let me know when you need more!" the man winked. Chouchou immediately held her hands out to indicate that now was when.

The man chuckled, as did Naruto and Mirai. Attention was directed towards Shikamaru when he contributed with a lazy snicker.

"Shikamaru, this has to be your boy, right? God he looks just like you...so you must be..." the tall man leaned forward to assess Shikamaru's son with his blue eyes.

"...Shikadai?"

Said boy's teal eyes met ocean blue head on for the first time.

"Ryomen," he acknowledged.

The gears inside his head started turning. _Those eyes...somehow I can tell the niceness they're exuding is a cover-up for something hidden underneath._ Sea-foam green eyes flashed before Shikadai's vision. _They've seen darkness before...but unlike Uncle Gaara's, it still lingers in their depths. But this guy's not even a shinobi, so..._

Shikadai suddenly hated those ocean blue eyes with a passion.

"Yup, that's Shikadai!" the Hokage yelled. "I swear he is just as smart as his dad is, although I'm not so sure if he's surpassed me yet, you know, with how brilliant I am and all, hehe..."

Everyone waited for Shikadai to roll his eyes and mumble, "Troublesome," like he normally would have, and perhaps offer Ryomen a simple greeting.

Instead, they watched teal eyes sharpen like knives. Those who knew Shikadai stiffened in apprehension—even Uncle Naruto and his own father—having never seen such the boy take on such a severe demeanor. The only unfazed face was Ryomen's smiling one— _another facade_. Shikadai thought. He was sick of facades.

"So you're from the Wind Country?" he asked in the cold, low voice of interrogation.

"Technically speaking, yes, I am..."

"Well, you must have an awful lot of money to afford foreign ninja on a regular basis."

Ryomen glanced at Shikamaru (who was a little embarrassed at his son's rudeness), and remarked, "So he is bright after all, catching on so quickly! I wouldn't flaunt my wealth, but I'll admit that my family had quite an inheritance from the mining business in the past..."

"Suna ninja too cheap for you, then?"

From the corner of his eye, Shikadai saw Shikamaru paling in further embarrassment, and thought in annoyance what a drag it would be to explain his rash behavior to his father, since he himself was simply acting on instinct alone. Ryomen was the type of person Shikadai normally would have gotten along with swell, but...

"Ah, that's not it! I'm simply better acquainted with Konoha and its shinobi; despite being geographically in the Wind Country, Kyokai is actually closer to Konoha than it is to Suna." Ryomen quirked his head at Shikadai as if in amusement. "Your concern for Suna intrigues me, though! Aren't you a Konoha shinobi yourself?"

"Yes, but I was actually assessing your questionable opinion about our closest allies."

Ryomen laughed lightly. Shikadai's irritation increased. "Sunagakure's not so bad, really—although to give you my honest opinion their ninja are quite a bit more serious about their jobs—it makes civilians like me kinda nervous sometimes! To tell you the truth, I never knew shinobi could be so friendly till I met you guys, and I never dreamed that the Hokage would want to be my friend!" He slapped Naruto on the back. "And the Kazekage of Suna's a bit well...you know...intimidating...?"

 _You did not just go there_ , Shikadai seethed.

Shikadai lifted his head so as to look down at Ryomen through his lashes, despite the fact that the man was clearly taller than him by quite a few heads. "No, actually I don't know. In fact, my _uncle's_ one of the coolest people I know. Sure, he can be intimidating..." Shikadai took a step forward, "...but only to people who have a reason to fear him."

Figurative alarm bells were ringing inside the Hokage office which, despite its expansiveness, suddenly felt suffocating and small in size. Shikamaru's face was one of mild horror. Inojin was looking at Shikadai in alarm— _is this really Shikadai? What's happened to him?_ he was thinking—and Chouchou looked on in worry, even pausing in her eating.

"Shika-Shikadai!" Mirai stuttered.

Naruto stepped forward, a small frown of worry on his face. "Actually—" he began to explain.

"No, don't, Naruto," Ryomen interrupted, holding one arm and stopping the Hokage from proceeding any further. He turned to Shikadai, looking back into the teal eyes, this time with a look of pain in his ocean blue eyes.

 _Huh. What a lot of different layers of facades this guy has._

"Now I see why you were rushing to defend Suna...Lord Kazekage...is your uncle, huh? Really, it touches me to know that you would defend your uncle's honor, despite being from different villages. Times really have changed, haven't they?

"Being who you are, you deserve the truth. Sunagakure...was not always as it is now. I remember times where there was much civil unrest within the borders of the Land of Wind. Some...things happened, and some loved ones who were very important to me...died there...I could never disassociate Suna with the memory of their deaths.

"I know it's real cowardly of me, but I'm nothing like you shinobi are...I came to Konoha just so I wouldn't have to go to Suna and relive the past...of course, meeting all you friendly people just bonuses along the way..."

Shikadai watched as pity washed over the features of the rest of the room's occupants. The easily moved Chouchou even rubbed her eyes and exclaimed, "That's sad...I'm so sorry, man!"

 _So he wants to play victim, huh?_

 _Hmph, two can play this game._

The room was once more startled into silence when Shikadai, face suddenly wiped of expression, presented a slow, deep bow in Ryomen's direction. "If that is the case, then my rudeness was unfounded," he said, voice flat and level and head still bowed; due to his posture, his face was obscured. "I would apologize...but..." Here, Shikadai slowly raised himself once more.

As his face became visible once more, Ryomen and the others watched a feral grin spread across Shikadai's cheeks like poison ivy, complimented by a wild look in wide teal eyes. "...That would depend on the _merit_ of your...ah, _sob story_."

Time was paralyzed in the Hokage's office for the few moments that followed after that.

Having given the message he wanted to relay and gotten it out of his system, Shikadai suddenly felt that inexplicable drive that had prompted him to talk...leave him. His prior zeal oozed out of him and he sagged like a deflated balloon, his eyelids half-drooping over his wide, untamed teal eyes as they were again clouded by sleepiness and an air of annoyance.

Everyone else in the room seemed to release the breath they didn't know they were holding; the strangling feeling left the room, though more importantly—the "new", frighteningShikadai had gone and they Shikadai they knew was back. One only needed to look at the way he was presently scratching the back of his head and yawning to know that his Nara demeanor had returned.

Ryomen, not batting an eye, took it all in stride, even offering Shikadai a bow of his own. "Kazekage's nephew, really? I should be the one bowing to you!" he said good-naturedly. Jokingly, he added, "So what do I have to call you? Lord Shikadai?"

Chouchou snickered at her teammate's new "alias".

Turning to face Shikamaru, Ryomen, as if in surprise, exclaimed, "Why—you, then, Shikamaru! And—Lady Temari! I'd gained wind a while back that she'd moved to Konoha or something—but I never realized—"

"Oh, this is great!" cried a laughing Hokage, who was slapping his own knee. "You didn't know, Ryomen! It was international news, buddy—it seemed so obvious I never thought I'd have to tell ya! Although it's a wonder how lazy-ass Shikamaru managed to score the cream of the crop of Suna's _laaaaadies_..." Naruto wiped away a few stray tears from the corner of his eyes.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and shrugged, though a smirk was playing at his lips. "Yeah, it's troublesome...but yeah, we work out."

The adults continued to chat like old friends for a few more minutes. "Damn, this morning is turning into a real drag and the mission hasn't even started yet," Shikadai said, a disapproving frown drawn on his face as he watched the ordeal.

His teammates blinked and looked at him. They hadn't forgotten the earlier episode, and so were a bit awkward. Finally, Inojin crossed his arms and huffed, retorting, "Yeah, yeah, what a _surprise_...who'd think you'd feel any different about...anything?"

Shikadai glared at Inojin.

Chouchou rolled her eyes and patted both her teammates on the back, looking back and forth between them and subtly asking them to _get a hold of yourselves._

Finally, it came time to depart—for real—and Ino-Shika-Chou plus Mirai and Ryomen said their goodbyes to Naruto and Shikamaru. Shikadai watched with unconcealed disgust as Ryomen exchanged embraces with the Hokage; he was no longer quizzically interrogating the man but the hate didn't he had felt hadn't subsided, either. Shikamaru shot his son a look that said _we need to talk_. Shikadai sighed and half-heartedly waved goodbye to his father and the Hokage.

After the five had filed out of the door and gone on their way to Kyokai, Naruto immediately spun on Shikamaru, who was picking up pieces of the loose paper that Naruto had swept off his desk earlier from the floor. "Now what the hell was going on with Shikadai back there? I've never seen him act that way! I mean it was seriously creepy, believe it!"

Shikamaru got up before answering. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I don't know how the inside of his brain works..."

"Yeah, but he's your son!"

"Your logic fails to apply here, Naruto. How many times have you complained about how you can't understand Boruto's and Himawari's behavior?"

"Well, yeeeeeah, but...but Shikadai?! I mean most of the time he acts just like you...!" Naruto rubbed his chin and stood as if in a "thinking pose". "Is he becoming more like his mom or something?"

Shikamaru seriously contemplated this, because inwardly he had also been very startled by Shikadai's earlier actions. In a way, Naruto was right: Shikadai acted like Shikamaru most of the time...the way things had gone down with Ryomen earlier didn't seem to fit in with the puzzle he called his son. "I could imagine Temari saying some of those things...but she would have been a lot haughtier than Shikadai was. Honestly, I think Shikadai's becoming his own person."

"Okay, but did you see his eyes? The way he looked at Ryomen—it was like Shikadai was trying to KILL him with his eyes or something! Who taught him how to do that?"

Shikamaru didn't answer, though one couldn't really blame him for thinking of the brother-in-law Shikadai had spent most of his time with for the past few days. Shikamaru liked Gaara, but he couldn't think of one person who hadn't been terrified of the man at least once in their lifetime. Was it a coincidence that said brother-in-law was infamous for having...fearsome eyes?

Trying to shake these thoughts out of his head, Shikamaru sincerely hoped that his son would be all right spending a full-day mission with a man he had clearly started out on the wrong foot with.

As he thought this, history was being made as the current Ino-Shika-Chou team stepped outside the village gates of Konoha for the first time.

Mirai and Chouchou were both walking on either side of Ryomen, clearly enjoying having conversation with him, while Chouchou periodically asked for more sweets from the Kyokai man. Inojin seemed to be smiling pleasantly as he silently observed their interactions, although he was also clearly avoiding Shikadai.

Shikadai, several steps behind them, dug his hands into his pockets and, with a scowl in place, glared holes into the back of Ryomen's black-haired head. The shinobi on duty at the village gates shouted goodbyes and best wishes, but Shikadai ignored them.

As they set out on the road towards the Land of Wind, Shikadai felt the wind tug him backward a little bit. He glanced at his teammates, none of whom seemed to have noticed.

 _"What's the wind trying to tell me?" Shikadai asked._

 _"Change," Uncle Gaara answered._

Turning his neck, he watched as the Konoha gates became smaller and smaller, as the place he knew as home became farther and farther, until finally, the trees obscured it from his vision and he could see it no longer.

* * *

It was the perfect mission.

Travel on the Suna-Konoha road had been delightfully pleasant. Lush green trees and colorful flowers lined the path and provided for enjoyable scenery. It had been a peaceful day with few other travelers along the road. Ryomen, Mirai, and Team Ino-Shika-Chou found themselves in the company of small wildlife and chirping birds. They would pass by one of the occasional restaurants and shops on the road from time to time, and shop owners yelled warm words of greeting and welcome at them.

True to the description, the plant growth thinned the farther out they traveled, but the entire way, they were accompanied by a bright sun and a soft breeze. The blue sky was clad in majestic white clouds.

Team Ino-Shika-Chou couldn't have asked for a better client. He was friendly, familiar with Mirai, and had no requests and no complaints.

There was such a _lack_ of troublesome things that Shikadai felt he was about to explode from all of it.

He _wished_ that it _were_ a mission riddled with misfortune. He wished this was the day the skies would choose to relieve themselves on their heads, the day that some dangerous wild animal would attack them out of the blue, the day that, instead of Ryomen, they'd received some old hag of a client who nagged their heads off for the entirety of the mission, because Shikadai knew that...

 _There's no such thing as a perfect mission._

With every second that passed, Shikadai grew tenser and tenser, to the point where the sound of a twig snapping made him whip out a kunai. Because he felt that every prolonged moment of good fortune was the prelude of an even bigger disaster.

In yet another stroke of "good fortune", Ryomen, the shinobi's "dream client", took the four Konoha ninja out for a meal. It was at a noodle shop situated at the point on the Suna-Konoha road right before the team would have to fork off into the wilderness in order to get to Kyokai. Ryomen claimed that it was their last chance for a proper meal, and he wanted to treat the company he had "so enjoyed". Shikadai had openly snorted at this. He had been deliberately rude to Ryomen and said man "enjoyed" his company? Thus far, it didn't seem like even a single thing was able to dissatisfy Ryomen.

At the restaurant, Shikadai ate so little he thought his eating habits for that particular meal could probably compete with Uncle Gaara's. He found Mirai sitting next to him, slurping her noodles while watching him pick at his out of the corner of her eye, genuinely concerned.

He put down his chopsticks. "Don't even ask."

The girl sighed. "Come on, buddy, talk to me! We've been walking all day, and now you're barely touching your food! Not to mention, you've been acting all weird, too...I'm worried about you."

Shikadai couldn't blame Mirai. The older girl had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember and had always looked out for him. She was enthusiastic whilst Shikadai was nonchalant, but Shikadai never once doubted her best intentions. Having grown up without a father, she was a headstrong, independent young woman who sought to prove herself to the world and a shinobi Shikadai looked up to. She was fond of him, and likewise, he was fond of her.

He also knew that she hadn't forgotten the way he had acted towards Ryomen back at the Hokage's office hours ago. He'd barely spoken a word to the man since, despite Ryomen's attempts at conversation. Thinking back to what he himself had said to Ryomen, Shikadai couldn't help but admit that his behavior had indeed been...weird. Un-Shikadai-like. Almost as if he had been possessed by something...but yet he'd been in full control of his own actions. If asked why he'd done it, his best answer was that he'd just felt like it. It was bizarre...and almost like a premonition.

"It's nothing, Mirai."

"Nonsense. I know you inside out and this—" she gestured at him up and down—"is _not_ you. You can talk to me. Really."

 _And what should I say? That I totally hate the guts of this guy who's your friend and whom you wholeheartedly trust?_ Mirai was one of Konohagakure's best chunin and Shikadai knew that she'd escorted Ryomen many times and had no qualms about him. He didn't want to sound like he didn't trust her, because really, he trusted her.

"I said. It's no big deal." He sounded defensive and he knew Mirai could tell.

Mirai threw her hands in the air, exasperated at the boy. "No big deal?! This mission has been a pretty relaxing one! You're tense. You've been on edge all day. You look like the whole world is out to get you or something...I mean normally you act like the whole world is out to get you anyway, but today you're just...different. Is it because of this mission?"

Shikadai looked at Mirai, narrowed his eyes, and replied, "You're troublesome."

"And you're welcome for caring!" Mirai shook her head. "You know, with your behavior, you could jeopardize the mission..."

"As if there's anything to jeopardize," Shikadai returned. "You said so yourself: this mission is pretty relaxing. Look at what we're doing now: eating at a noodle restaurant?"

Mirai frowned, frustrated at the failure of her tactic. "Seriously, if you don't let me know what's going on I'm gonna tell your dad about this!"

"Whatever," Shikadai said, waving his hand at her, "he'd figure out himself anyway." He didn't really have anything to fear from his father, either.

"All right, then...I'm telling your mom!"

"You'd tell her regardless." Knowing his mother, Shikadai had already deduced that she would come to Mirai to interrogate her about how the mission had gone, and that Mirai would tell her everything anyway. "If you wanna tattle, go ahead but down bother me about it."

Mirai let her face fall in her hands. "You're hopeless," she moaned, getting up.

Their conversation seemed to have reached the other members of their party, as Shikadai found all eyes on him all of a sudden. Chouchou noticed his noodle bowl—still mostly full—and wailed. "How could you eat so little, bro? Leaving leftovers is...a sin!"

Ryomen looked at Shikadai with genuine concern. "Are you all right? You could always get something else, you know..."

Shikadai lost any and all of his remaining appetite. "N-no, I'm good," he mustered, forcing a smile onto his face.

Shikadai watched silently as Chouchou ordered a few more bowls of noodles at Ryomen's insistence.

"No no no, I can't let you pay for all this food!" Mirai insisted.

"Uh-uh, sorry Mirai, but it's my money and I'll do whatever I want with it! You can't stop me!" Ryomen had argued back (much to Chouchou's delight). "Chouchou, don't let Mirai here stop you! Order as much as you want!"

"You got it, sir!"

"We're supposed to be your escorts, but we've become your liability..." Mirai sighed.

"Hmm? Did you say something, Mirai?"

Shikadai watched the scene unfold with a face. _That's another thing that's terribly suspicious!_ Shikadai thought as he observed the cheerful Ryomen. _No one asks Chouchou to order as much food as she would like and leaves with a smiling face unless you're as rich as the daimyo or something!_

Inojin seemed to sense Shikadai's discomfort and looked a little smugly his way—the two boys were still feuding, and by definition each one's downfall was the other's triumph.

After Chouchou had finished her fill—which was far longer than Shikadai would have liked—and the owner of the humble noodle shop had perhaps made enough profits to go on vacation for a year, the party of five finally left the restaurant to continue on the last leg of the journey. With Mirai leading the way, the team veered off the course of the Suna-Konoha road and began walking through the trees, scrubs, and rocks.

Besides the change in scenery and paved roads, the mission continued as it had before. The client was cordial as ever, and for the two girls and Inojin the C-ranked mission was feeling more like a nice stroll in the woods than anything else. Shikadai tried to keep a low profile, feeling anxious as ever, continued to feel anxious—he wondered if praying for a bear to come out and maul them made him crazy. As luck would have it, nothing of the sort happened.

For lack of something better to do, Shikadai began taking note of his surroundings. The trees in this part of the country (they were still in the Fire Country, though they would be crossing into the Land of Wind up ahead) were skinny, and their leaves were a cross between a pale green and yellow—a result of lack of water. Brown weeds spotted the ground, though occasionally a splash of color would appear on the ground from the growth of miscellaneous wildflowers. The soil itself was dry and dusty, with rocks up to the size of small boulders scattered around the area. Shikadai watched as small clouds of dust rose up in the air with every step he took. Overall, he found the landscape rather boring.

As if answering to his thoughts at last, nature provided them with a sudden change of scenery. After about half an hour of walking through the trees and rocks, the team arrived in a clearing with about a one-hundred foot diameter. Shikadai noted with interest that besides one or two shrubs, the area was bare: what trees had been present in the past had been chopped down to stumps. Rocks and a few large boulders ornamented the area, but other than that, there really was nothing in it.

"Why don't we stop here and rest for a little while? I think the whole day of travelling is finally getting to me..." Ryomen removed the large pack from his back, rolled his shoulders a few times, and sat down on a rock.

While the others were already acquiescing, Shikadai frowned. "We just rested at the restaurant half an hour ago, and you want to stop _already_?"

"Hey, hey, have some pity for this old sack of bones!" Ryomen pointed to himself and Shikadai raised an eyebrow, because it was obvious that despite being in his fifties Ryomen was in good shape. "I'm not a shinobi or young anymore, like you kids. Cut me some slack, okay?" Ryomen winked.

"Surely you can walk just a little bit further. You haven't complained all day, and you don't look like you're about to drop dead anytime soon," Shikadai said in a rude tone, his zeal suddenly returning to him.

"Shikadai!" Mirai said in a scolding tone before the boy could somehow insult their client further. "Ryomen, of course we can stop and rest here for a little bit," she told the man.

"Ryomen is our client and we're his escorts. It's our duty to adhere to his wishes," Inojin explained, purposefully taking on the tone that he was explaining something to a child, and it made Shikadai grind his teeth.

"We're taking a break? Great!" Chouchou plopped down next to Ryomen. "Hey, got anymore of that candy?"

Ryomen laughed and presented Chouchou with yet more of the sweets, making Shikadai wonder if the man's supply truly was bottomless.

"Why are we stopping _here_ , of all places?" Shikadai couldn't help but ask. He wondered if he was acting childish with his continuous argumentativeness, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I mean, this place...this place feels troublesome. It's so empty—where are all the trees?"

"It's one of the areas we collect firewood from in Kyokai—that's why it's been cleared out," Ryomen explained. "And I thought it was a nice place to rest since it's out in the open. We can bask in the sun...and I heard someone liked watching clouds!" Ryomen suggested.

Mirai walked over to Shikadai with her hands of her hips. "Okay, I am definitely telling your mother about this—"

"Just shut up."

Mirai visibly recoiled at Shikadai's deadly tone and glare. Shikadai wasn't the politest kid, but he had never spoken to her that way before. Casting one last worried—and slightly sad—look his way, she walked away.

Shikadai looked away and sighed, feeling defeated. He sat down on one of the rocks, taking care to distance himself from both Ryomen and Inojin. He saw Mirai walking around, observing the area.

"You alright, Shikadai?" Shikadai turned to his right to see that Chouchou had joined him by his side.

"Everyone seems to be asking me that today..." he mumbled.

"And for good reason too! I mean you are like a freaking _whacko_ today..."

Chouchou continued to ramble on, and Shikadai ignored her words and allowed the sound of her voice to become background noise. Normally, he would have lied down and taken the opportunity to nap, but he didn't even consider that today. He slumped forward, and though he resented Ryomen's comment about his liking to watch clouds, but he found himself looking up and watching the clouds anyway. He tried to fill his head with his usual thoughts of cloud envy, but something else kept invading his mind as he watched the fluffy white forms in the sky.

 _"Clouds come and go in an instant—within the blink of an eye they leave one's life for eternity...and the second you take to reach out to grasp them is never enough to keep them from slipping away...true, the clouds will always be there, as old ones drift away and new ones drift in to replace them, but with every new cloud you're reminded that it's not the same as the cloud you knew yesterday..."_

Shikadai watched as one cloud passed over the sun, which was still rather high in the sky. In a moment of desperation, Shikadai tried to figure out what shape the cloud seemed to take on, wanting to desperate to grasp it to keep it from drifting away from his life forever, knowing it was futile—

 _CRACK_

A sudden, loud snapping sound stopped them all short of their activities. Time itself seemed suspended in the air by a string as the five of them in the clearing fell deathly silent, breaths held, waiting for time to continue its course once more and yet afraid for what the next second would bring.

Eyes moved independently of bodies, and the five of them slowly met gazes for a moment before turning their attention to a boulder behind which the sound had come.

Not a muscle moved, and the wind was silent.

This time, Shikadai really wished it had just been some wild animal.

Coming to her senses, and with her shinobi skills now on full alert, Mirai whipped out a kunai and thrust it in the direction of where the sound had come from. It zipped through the air before falling to the ground in an eerie _thud_.

They waited. There was nothing. Shikadai felt a chill travel up his spine.

"Who's there?" Mirai called out. Even the wind refused to answer.

Mirai spun her head around. "Inojin? Anything?" she hissed.

Inojin was a sensory ninja, and he closed his eyes for a couple seconds in deep concentration, searching for any trace of foreign chakra. Shikadai and Chouchou watched him eagerly, Shikadai putting aside his feud with Inojin for the time being. Now was the time to work together and step up to their shinobi duties, not the time to continue their fight.

Inojin opened his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't detect anything!"

 _That means one of two things_ , Shikadai deduced. _One, that really isn't anyone out there, or two, whoever's out there is so good that even Inojin can't detect their chakra._ Cold sweat dribbled down his temple. _If two's the case, they've gotta be good. There aren't even that many places to hide in a clearing like this._

Mirai turned her head back to the direction the offending sound had come from. "Show yourself!" she yelled. A few seconds passed. "All right," she continued, with new resolve, "if you won't show yourself—"

Her hands flew through a few hands signs.

"Then I will!"

Shikadai decided that even though he really, really didn't like Ryomen, as a shinobi and as his escort, he had to put aside his feelings and do his part. _Besides, I can't afford to flunk this mission._ Along with the other two members of Ino-Shika-Chou, he jumped in front of Ryomen in a protective stance. "Watch out," Shikadai warned the man. "Brace yourself, and you might want to cover your ears."

"Fire Style: Burning Ash!"

Mirai puffed up her stomach and chest, and clouds of black smoke that were the signature of the Sarutobi clan jutsu billowed from her lips and quickly filled up the space before her, obscuring the area in a thick gray that hovered ominously in the air. She allowed the smoke to spread for a few moments, creating an inescapable void of suffocating darkness, and when there was no indication of a reaction from anybody within the black clouds, she gave a battle cry and ignited her jutsu.

 _BAAAAANG_

Even from where he was standing, Shikadai could feel the searing heat from the explosion of orange and red balls of flame on his skin. Thick smoke continued to linger in the air after the explosion had ended, and Shikadai watched breathlessly as the black clouds rained ash, debris, and—

Shikadai watched Mirai's face pale as something much heavier rained from the down from the amidst the wreckage. She jumped out of its way as it landed loudly on the ground. It was—

 _A singed arm_. Shikadai heard Inojin gasp and Chouchou scream.

Shikadai found his eyes glued to the limb, despite his repulsion. He swallowed the fear that was gurgling near his throat and from his position inspected it further. He realized that the burn patterns on the appendage didn't...look quite normal. It suddenly dawned upon him that it _wasn't a real human arm_...

Before Shikadai could announce his discovery or truly process it in his mind, another thing fell from the aftermath of Mirai's explosion. This time, however, it was very much complete. And very much alive.

A masked ninja with small black eyes suddenly descended upon Mirai from the air, brandishing a long sword over his head, and swung it at her, aiming to unseat her head from her shoulders. At the last minute, Mirai was able to react quickly, drop to the ground, and roll backwards out of the way. This time, none of the Ino-Shika-Chou members were able to keep the yelp away from their lips as they watched their parents' sensei's daughter come within an inch of death.

 _CLANG_ Shikadai inwardly cheered as he watched Mirai whip out a small sword of her own and counter the enemy ninja's attacks with her own. As he watched the battle, entranced, his respect for Mirai increased. _No normal chunin could fight so well._

Nevertheless, Shikadai watched with a sinking heart as Mirai's movements grew more and more sluggish while her enemy's remained as swift as ever. He began growing more alarmed as each of the enemy's swipes of the sword came closer and closer to slashing Mirai as it became more and more tiring for her to counter them with a _clang_! Mirai's taijutsu and swordsmanship skills were good, but that wasn't good enough if the enemy's was better.

The masked shinobi swung his sword at Mirai's face, and Mirai leaned backwards to prevent her head from being halved. She took the opportunity to do a back flip backwards, leaping back several times to distance herself from her enemy, beads of sweat pouring from her brow and out of breath.

Again, Shikadai inwardly cheered as he observed the fight's current status. Knowing her so well, he knew what Mirai was about to do next, and the enemy would be in a vulnerable position.

She had shown off her paternal heritage earlier with her Burning Ash jutsu; now was the time to use her mother's techniques: genjutsu.

Kurenai Yuhi's genjutsu was infamously appraised—they'd even been complimented by Itachi Uchiha—and while her daughter's was nowhere near her level yet, it took a special shinobi to be able to escape Mirai's illusions.

She cast the hand seals.

Shikadai couldn't tell what kind of a genjutsu Mirai had cast, since he wasn't the one being caught in it, but he watched the enemy ninja's movements slow to a halt as he stared straight ahead at Mirai. _Score_ , he thought—

Until Mirai's expression of concentration suddenly twisted into one of completely bewilderment. She opened her mouth and screamed, "It's not, it's not—"

The enemy ninja raised his arm and pointed an outstretched palm at Mirai.

"—human—"

The ninja's hand suddenly snapped open to reveal its inner metal mechanisms.

 _It's a puppet_ , Shikadai realized, his heart plummeting to his stomach.

A strange, white mist burst from the puppet's hand, completely engulfing Mirai. Having a puppeteer as an uncle, it didn't take long for Shikadai to figure out that the strange substance was—"POISON, Mirai! Don't breathe!"

Shikadai cursed the element of surprise—despite having used it numerous times himself against his own opponents—because as the white mist cleared, it revealed a motionless Mirai, lying prone on the ground. Her eyes were half open and her breathing seemed shallow—her lips twitched as if she was trying to say something, but her words came out soundless. The puppet that had attacked her was nowhere to be seen...

 _Shit shit shit_ , Shikadai thought, _if Mirai was taken down in a matter of minutes do we even stand a chance at all?_ Trying to push the negative thoughts regarding his seemingly inevitable future from his head, Shikadai began to rally his teammates. "All right, Inojin, Chouchou," he said urgently, "whoever's out there's gonna come after us next, so we've gotta—"

Shikadai stopped short, and both he and Inojin stared in horror at Chouchou, who was sprawled over the rock she had just been standing on minutes earlier. Her golden eyes peered up at her two teammates with undiluted fear.

"I can't...move...my body..." she mustered with more than a little effort.

 _Just who are we up against?_

Reacting quickly, Inojin took out his parchment and paintbrush, dipped his brush a little viciously into his inkwell, and scrawled a beast onto the paper. He performed a hand sign and the ink creature reared to life and, at Inojin's command, rushed to Chouchou's side to protect her. Shikadai sent Inojin an approving nod; there would be a fight, and neither boy could be distracted by having to worry about their currently indisposed teammate.

With bravery he didn't know he possessed, Shikadai stepped forward, ready to face whatever enemy was out to get them, trying his hardest not to think of the outcomes.

Chakra suddenly flared from several sources, and Shikadai watched with no small amount of dread as a grand total of not one, not two, but _five_ shinobi—three male and two female—leapt out from behind boulders and hiding places to confront the two genin. From the feel of their chakra alone, Shikadai could tell that they were at least jounin or ANBU level. Their faces were twisted into cruel grins, and somewhere behind him, Shikadai heard Ryomen squeak in fear.

"See what I told you!" Shikadai whipped his head to the side in surprise to see Inojin seething at him with eyes full of accusation and...hurt.

Shikadai was exasperated; teamwork was crucial at the moment—why was Inojin choosing _now_ to bring up their argument? "Inojin, now's really not the time—"

"They're _Suna_ ninja!"

Shikadai's heart stopped. Slowly, he turned his head back at the enemies, afraid of what he would see. His eyes widened impossibly.

On their foreheads were shining pieces of metal engraved with hourglasses.

For all of two seconds, Shikadai stared at the enemy ninja in complete, empty shock. His body was an empty shell through which his wild heartbeat reverberated.

 _LUB. DUB. LUB. DUB._

"Who are you?"

"We're ninja of Sunagakure..." one said.

"We have no desire to harm citizens of the Wind Country," another continued, gesturing to Ryomen, who was cowering.

"Then why are you here?" Shikadai shouted.

"We're here...by order of the Lord Kazekage."

 _NO_! screamed the voice in Shikadai's head, despite his efforts to get it to shut up. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now, yet the only thought that came to his mind was that of Uncle Gaara. The Kazekage.

The enemy ninja had flung themselves upon Shikadai and Inojin so quickly that neither boy had the time to even blink before they found themselves separated and having to fend for themselves. _So much for teamwork_. One moment, Shikadai had been staring—in denial—at the shinobis' shining Suna headbands, and in the next moment, he found himself face-to-face with a three-eyed face.

He recognized the puppet as the Crow— _one of Uncle Kankuro's favorite puppet models,_ he remembered _._

Shikadai gasped when the puppet jaw dropped open—that meant a flurry of senbon was coming his way—and with a speed he himself didn't know he possessed, ducked and scrambled backwards as far as he could. He spotted a boulder some ways away, and with his Shadow Clutch Technique started extending his shadow towards it; Chouchou was incapacitated, so real rocks would have to do.

His distorted black form slithered over the ground, about the grabbed the desired boulder—when it stopped short and began to retract back towards Shikadai's body. _Dammit! The shadow wasn't long enough!_ He looked around his surroundings and swore. _There's nothing in this clearing that I can extend my shadow with!_ He looked back at his puppet opponent. Its human controller was nowhere in sight; whoever was manipulating it was good at using chakra strings from a distance. _Not to mention that the enemy is a long distance fighter..._

Knowing that regular weapons would be futile against an opponent made mostly out of wood and metal, Shikadai dug through the weapons pouch strapped to his belt and took out an explosive kunai. He threw it with all his might, holding his breath as he watched it wizz through the air in the puppet's direction.

In an unexpected turn of events, the weapon's path was abruptly redirected, and Shikadai's eyes widened as the weapon whirled and spun through the air back towards him. A sudden gust of wind swept him clean off his feet and the wind was knocked out of him as his back collided roughly and without abandon onto the hard ground. A second later, the ground shook violently somewhere on his right and Shikadai knew that the explosive kunai must detonated too close to him if the loud _BANG_ still left a ringing in his ears and he could feel the scorching hot air on his arms even through his long sleeves.

The attack had been nowhere as powerful as Shikadai's mother's, but that was granted since Temari was the world's best Wind user. He looked up to spot the kunoichi who had nailed the attack on him. She had long brown hair and was brandishing a long, curved weapon. _It must be infused with her Wind Release chakra._

His muscles ached and he wheezed as he attempted to get up, coughing a few times both due to his hard fall and the ashen debris from the nearby explosion. He shook his head in an attempt to remove the sharp ringing from his hearing. He wiped the little bit of blood he had coughed up off his chin. _Focus_ , he chanted to himself. _Ignore the pain_.

The sound of a frantic scream effectively shifted Shikadai's attention away from his own tribulations. Looking in the direction of where it had come, he saw the ground blackened with splattered ink and in the midst of it, two ninja standing triumphant and unscathed. At their feet lay a comatose Inojin.

His eyes flitted over to Chouchou, lying defenseless on the ground. The ink beast standing guard of her paced around her prone form, but Shikadai knew that if the shinobi decided to attack it, it would soon join its counterparts spilled over the rocky floor.

He looked over to Mirai, still sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

He wondered if there was any point in even trying to get up at all. It was a shougi board and he was the only piece left standing. _There's no point_. He suddenly felt an overwhelming pang of despair.

"Shikadai Nara!" someone called out. Panting, Shikadai struggled to his feet, swaying a few times. With unsteady eyes he regarded whoever it was that knew his name. He realized it was the brown-haired Wind Release kunoichi. "Shadow manipulator and next in line to the position of Nara Clan head. We know all about you," she smirked. "Lady Temari's undercover mission in the Leaf has proven useful after all..."

Ignoring the voice that was once again screaming inside his head at the mention of his mother's name, Shikadai assumed a battle stance just in time for the Crow to be thrown his way again. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shinobi maneuvering his hands about—that one had to be Crow's puppet master. The other shinobi seemed to simply be standing around, watching the show, occasionally throwing a weapon Shikadai's way, simply for the amusement of watching him struggle.

 _They took the other three down in a matter of seconds! Why are they toying with_ _me_ _...?_

Shikadai cried out as one of the Crow's arms swatted at him and left a gash in his left bicep. _Ignore the pain_ , he chanted to himself, clutching the torn flesh with his right hand. Meanwhile, the gears in his head started turning.

 _It doesn't make sense that Sunagakure would try to attack Konoha ninja now! The have no motive, and the timing is all off...!_

"Shadow Possession Jutsu!" Shikadai cried, forming the hand seal with his slick, bloodied, crimson hands. He inwardly cheered when his shadow latched onto the Crow puppet, earning some surprised cries from the enemy shinobi.

 _Today is the day of the Five Kage Summit in Konohagakure. Even if Suna_ _did_ _want attack Konoha, this would be the worst time to do so. This would be considered an international incident, so it wouldn't make sense for the Kazekage to order an attack while still in enemy territory along with the Kage of the other villages...they'd have no trouble seizing him...he'd wait till his was safely back in Suna..._

Taking a deep breath, Shikadai broke out into a run towards the enemy shinobi, and with his jutsu turned the puppet against its own masters. He found the Crow puppet extremely difficult to manipulate with Shadow Possession, since it wasn't exactly humanoid. It floundered a bit as if doing a wild dance, but Shikadai grit his teeth and continued charging.

 _Uncle Gaara_ _can't_ _have ordered this attack...it just doesn't add up...and I know he would never do something like this. So, these people have gotta be lying..._

It suddenly dawned upon Shikadai and it made him tremendously furious.

 _They must be trying to..._ _frame_ _Uncle Gaara!_

Shikadai had no time to react upon this information when Ryomen's voice suddenly startled him out of his thoughts. "Shikadai!" the man called from somewhere behind him. "Watch out—to your left!"

For the first time in the entire day, Shikadai was grateful for Ryomen's presence. He jerked to the side and avoided the shuriken that would have lodged itself in his temple had he not been given a warning—he hadn't noticed it being thrown his way at all. He would have thanked the man had his hands not been full.

His momentary lapse of concentration and panic caused his hands to become undone and for the Crow puppet to jerkily free itself of his shadow.

Shikadai quickly halted his charge and, since he was now more defenseless, tried to distance himself as much as possible from his enemy. _Okay. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe. Use your head._ Shikadai began carefully observing his surroundings and the positions of enemies, trying to come with a strategy. _There's gotta be something I can use to my advantage, if I consider all factors—_

Of course, there was no way Shikadai could have considered the factor that came up right at that moment that threw his game completely off course.

In the split of a second, his entire world exploded in inextinguishable agony. He was blinded by white and overcome by sensation, and unable to help it—he screamed.

He looked down at himself to see a kunai buried deep in his side, and the vermilion essence of his life spilled out of his body and onto the ground.

Trembling, he turned to around to came face to face with a sixth ninja who must have snuck in from behind him while he was distracted. The shinobi was looking at him with an expression of undiluted hate and loathing, the source of which Shikadai didn't know.

His eyes shifted and suddenly latched on to the sight of Ryomen who was standing a ways away...

 _Why didn't he warn me...?_

Within the fraction of a second that followed that train of thought, Shikadai's mind suddenly fired rapidly—though he hadn't thought it was possible in his current critical state—thoughts flooded his brain a million miles a minute.

 _Whoever ordered this attack...must really hate Uncle Gaara..._

 _"_ _And the Kazekage of Suna's a bit well...you know...intimidating...?"_

 _"_ _Sunagakure...was not always as it is now. I remember times where there was much civil unrest within the borders of the Land of Wind. Some...things happened, and some loved ones who were very important to me...died there...I could never disassociate Suna with the memory of their deaths..."_

 _And now they're trying to target_ _me_ _..._

 _"_ _And I thought it was a nice place to rest since it's out in the open. We can bask in the sun...and I heard someone liked watching clouds!"_

 _He chose to rest in this place on_ _purpose_ _—_

 _So I wouldn't be able to use shadows..._

The last thing teal eyes saw was the ocean blue of Ryomen's eyes before the world went black.

* * *

"Worthless...absolutely _worthless_..."

"Please...don't say that..."

"Just look at him! He barely put up a good fight against those weak ninja..."

"He's still so young—just a genin—"

"He can't survive in the shinobi world like that—"

" _Rasa_..."

Shikadai awoke to the sound of muffled voices. He could hear a man and a woman talking from somewhere nearby, and as he slowly gained consciousness he began to make out their words. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back in a dark place. He blinked a couple times, trying to adjust his vision to the darkness, but found it futile as his surroundings were pitch black.

He struggled to sit up, only to find an incredible ache course through his entire body. He inadvertently groaned; it felt as if heavy lead were attached to his appendages.

As if sensing that Shikadai had awoken, the conversation between the two unknown strangers ceased abruptly. Shikadai struggled to get up again—to no avail.

A female voice suddenly reached his ears, and the woman sounded much closer now than she had before. "Shhh, shhhhh, my love...don't exert yourself...you're still tired...it's all right, just lie back down..."

Shikadai had no idea who she was, but she had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. He immediately obeyed the woman's soft words, falling back and realxing his muscles...

Memories of what had just happened flooded back to his mind. _Getting stabbed...the kunai...all the blood...Ryomen..._ "Where am I?" he choked out drily, his throat burning. "Am I dead?"

A low male voice spoke out, and he, too, sounded much closer than he had before. Shikadai was sure the two were standing right next to him. "Hn, does it really matter? As weak as you are, you could end up dead any given moment..." The man's voice was low and stern, and his words were spoken in a reprimanding tone. Somehow, Shikadai knew that the apparent meanness masked worry and concern.

"No, not...yet," the woman replied Shikadai. "It's a two-way road and it's up to you to choose if you want to continue...or if you want to begin a new adventure..."

From the day he was born, Shikadai had never once doubted his desire to live nor his choice between life and death. The former, however, suddenly seemed so extremely troublesome. He had never expected life to have to make him choose between the two options.

"If I go back there..." Shikadai began, stopping short because he wasn't quite sure how to continue. "I could be wrong. It's just a theory. About the Sunagakure, about Uncle Gaara, about Ryomen...

"What if I'm wrong?"

"You're not wrong." The man's deep voice cut cleanly through the air and his tone gave no room for argument.

"How do you know?" Shikadai inquired.

"Didn't you look into Ryomen's eyes?" the man returned. "Those shallow idiots from Konoha might not have been able to see it, but one look is enough to see what's hidden behind those eyes of his."

"His eyes..." Shikadai breathed...

"They were eyes of revenge."

"So I'm right..." _So I'm not crazy after all_. Shikadai laughed to himself at that last thought. Here he was, talking to some strangers in the middle of nowhere. Sure, that wasn't crazy at all.

"Of course," the man replied confidently.

"Shikadai," the woman said, her voice sounding a bit urgent. "Shikadai, I know it's up to you to choose, but there's still so much left for you on your adventure...you're such a smart boy, my love, so much potential..."

He listened to the sound of her voice, and suddenly he felt like a small five-year-old boy seeking maternal comfort. "I-I'm scared..."

"You're a shinobi," the man replied firmly. "And you're also..." he paused for a long moment. "You're strong. I know it. Don't run away."

"Oh, Shikadai..." the woman's emotion-filled voice was wavering, and she sounded on the verge of tears. "It won't be easy back there...there are a lot of things you'll have to overcome, but...! You have friends, and you have family, and I promise you will always have _us_...I believe in you, Shikadai...I know you can do it. And we'll always be there to help you..."

Shikadai concluded that the sound of this woman's voice was the most soothing, gorgeous melody ever conceived. So desperately he wished to pair her voice with a face and be able to look into her eyes, in which he could only imagine the overwhelming amount of warmth and love, if one were to judge by the sound of her voice alone...he also knew that if he were to choose the second option, and begin a new journey, it would be with her, and so desperately did he want to run into the arms of this woman who he didn't even know...

He had to make a choice.

"Who...are you...?" he asked.

"Ah...how did Gaara say it, Karura?" the man said. "Right. I guess you could say that we're...stars."

The woman giggled softly. Shikadai imagined her smiling face. "We've watched you from the night sky since the day you were born, Shikadai...and we will _always_...continue...to watch you...from the sky every night...

"I _promise_..."

Her voice was growing softer and softer, farther and farther, and Shikadai felt his consciousness slipping away. He heard the woman sniffling, and Shikadai desperately clung onto his last remnants of wakefulness in order to say one more thing.

"Please..."

He imagined her falling tears.

"...don't cry..."

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!"

Teal eyes snapped open with fury and awoke to the blinding white sun. Shikadai roared with unsurpassed passion and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the liquid fire that shot through his veins from his injured side.

He earned sounds of surprised yelps at his sudden and unaccounted-for awakening. Grinding his teeth together, he yanked the kunai from his body, spraying the ground with more of his blood, and with unfocused eyes hurled the crimson-dyed weapon in Ryomen's direction.

He watched the blade completely miss its mark and spin off to the side, but Shikadai ignored it and, with a battle cry, charged straight at Ryomen, his shadow extending out in front of him.

"SHADOW POSSESSION JUTSU!"

The ninja were all too stunned to react. Shikadai couldn't tell whether his teammates and Mirai were conscious or not, but if they were, they would have seen Shikadai suddenly direct his jutsu at their client who was, of all the people present, an innocent man.

Ryomen took several steps backward to try and escape the maddened boy, but it was no use. Shikadai's shadow was undeniably connected to his now.

Ryomen's pupils contracted into tiny dots within their ocean blue irises, and he, unable to move away or even look away, observed, with exponentially increasing fear, the uninhibited expression of anger on the young boy's face.

Shikadai bent down and grabbed at the ground beside him. Ryomen's movements copied his, but the man's face paled when his own hand wrapped around the kunai Shikadai had tossed in his direction earlier.

"Sh-Shikadai-! W-what are you—"

 _"_ _Shut up."_

Shikadai brought up a fistful of empty air and held it out in front of him for a few seconds, before slowly bringing his hand up to his own neck, his teal eyes never leaving that of the man's in front of him.

Across from him, Ryomen picked up the kunai and held it out for a few seconds, before the weapon, guided by his own disobeying hand, came closer and closer to his own neck.

Shikadai tightened his fist, and Ryomen mirrored him, clutching the kunai a little tighter and digging the sharp end into his own neck.

Shikadai heard the gasping and whimpering of his enemy who appeared to be holding the kunai up to his own neck. The kunai had already been coated in Shikadai's blood before, but Shikadai knew that the red droplets now trickling down Ryomen's pale neck were not his own.


	7. Chapter 6: Crimson Performance

**Author's Note: It seems many of you found the last chapter...riveting...almost every single comment had WTH or WTF in it, and that's saying something—(not that I mind; keep it coming, people!). Let's see if this chapter can compete (I think it can—very much so)! In fact, I think I should be responsible and warn y'all about the following content. It's a bit...graphic (in the bloody way)? It's surely unique among the other chapters of the story. Yeah...**

 **With that said, it's Thanksgiving weekend! The universe keeps on asking me what I'm grateful for and although I really want to answer "my talent", that would be too bratty and hell knows I'm no brat. So what I really say is that I'm thankful for is all the readers, followers, favoriters, and especially reviewers of "Identity of Love and Sand": avtorsola, Ludmila Wase, Lady the Warrior (my new best friend), Alice2013, SilverTreeAndGoldLeaf, ThePaleMongrel, and demonwolfkid! I had no idea that writing this story would be so worth it! To the unnamed guest who commented on November 19: if you're reading this, which I hope you are, thank you so much! You're not the first person who brought to my attention the problem with Naruto's inattentiveness, but it works with my plot, so oh well. As you said, genin Naruto or Hokage Naruto will always be our lovable dork, just like psycho Gaara or Uncle Gaara will always be our paranoid little demon :)**

 **Have you guys noticed that my chapters are getting longer and longer? Chapter 6 is 13,224 frickin' words! Damn over-achieving me...**

 **All right, then: yay for long author's notes, intense chapters, and me shutting the hell up so you can finally get reading. :)**

Chapter 6—A Crimson Performance

Good stories have a solid introduction of setting and the casting of one individual as the "main character". As the story progresses, the main character undergoes some kind of conflict that creates rising tension that finally acclimates in a thrilling climax, after which the problem is resolved at last and catharsis is achieved.

 _The Life of Shikadai Nara._

At that moment, Shikadai learned two truths: all authors were liars, and Life was a cheater.

Life had given Shikadai birth to well-to-do and respected parents in a powerful, prosperous village in a time of peace. It had given him love and comfort, safety and security; it had given him family and friends. It had bestowed the gifts of talent and intellectual genius upon him. It had assigned him the noble duty of shinobi of his village, and graced him with the acceptance and admiration of his comrades and fellow villagers. It had shown him the prospect of a bright, happy future.

Shikadai wondered if Life had been toying with him when it had given him all of that, just so it could play this monumental joke on him now. Here and now, without preamble, Life had thrown him onto its highest peak, was dangling him from the great cliff of a mountain he had never scaled. This was a play, and here was the stage—in an obscure, unspectacular clearing in the middle of nowhere on the edge of the Fire Country border, miles away from Konoha, the home Shikadai had only left for the first time in his life. The sole members of the audience were the fallen figures of his defeated comrades and six nameless enemy shinobi who had every intention to kill Shikadai. Shikadai noted that they had their rapt attention focused on the unfolding scene at the center of the stage, where Ryomen stood, captive under Shikadai's jutsu; here at the pinnacle of the drama, the king had been checkmated by the lone pawn, the main character and Shikadai himself. The only thing about this twisted, dilapidated story that Shikadai was unsure about was whether the main character was a hero or a villain.

A choked gasp brought Shikadai's attention to his prisoner. Ryomen was struggling—in vain—to remove the sharp kunai from digging deeper into his bleeding throat. "Sh-Sh-Shikad-dai—" Ryomen mustered, his facial muscles contorting in pain as the effort of speaking sent vibrations to his already wounded throat. "P-p-please—what are you—"

Ryomen promptly shut up and would have gulped—had he been able to—at the fierce, pitiless glare Shikadai threw his way.

"Do you know what I love about the Shadow Possession Jutsu?" Shikadai asked slowly, ignoring the man's pleas. His ears were ringing, his breathing was ragged and heavy, his heart was hammering violently against his chest, he could still feel something warm and sticky travelling down his body from the gaping wound in his side, and a tornado had made the inside of his head its home—but somehow, his voice was that of a low, deadly calm.

"What I love about this jutsu, is that even though every muscle in your body is under my possession, even though one of your _movements_ is under my control, your face is still spared. That way I can still see your expression, and I can still listen to your mouth run off and look into your eyes—" Shikadai roughly jerked his own head to prove his point, and Ryomen's followed suit, teal and ocean blue eyes meeting in the middle—"and see that _you're still lying to me_."

"Pl-lease! I don't know w-what you're talking about, please!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm really not into this little game you're playing. This is starting to be a drag, so why don't you just drop the act and start talking." It was worded as a question but was doubtlessly an order.

"A-act? Shikadai, this is just—this has all gotta be just—a-a huge misunderstanding! I swear I have no idea what you're talking about—AHHHhhhhh—"

Shikadai had given his hand a rough jerk, causing the kunai in Ryomen's hand to slash yet again at the already mangled flesh on his throat, deepening the cut and turning the trickle of crimson down Ryomen's pale neck into a steady stream that soaked the collar of his shirt.

"Oh, so you want to continue playing this game? Well, you can go ahead and do that, but I have a much better idea..." Shikadai paused for effect, and he heard Ryomen's breath hitch in dread of his "idea"... "You know," he continued almost conversationally, "my friends call me a genius, and there aren't too many things out there I don't understand, but...I used to read in books that the human mind remains conscious for about 10 seconds after decapitation..." **(1)** The blood drained from Ryomen's face when he heard this word and he struggled to form words in his despair. "It was so bizarre, I could never understand how that was _possible_." Shikadai paused to smirk at his victim. "So why don't we figure it out together, Ryomen? For... _educational_ purposes? I don't know, but it sounds a lot more fun than the whole acting spectacle you're putting up." Shikadai raised his chin and tightened his hold on the "kunai" in his right hand, exposing more of the flushed flesh on Ryomen's neck. "We'll go nice and slow, and you can tell me how you're doing along the way."

It was a gruesome speech, and had Shikadai not been the one delivering it, he would have been utterly revolted, appalled, and disgusted. They were words he normally would have associated with sick madmen, but they seemed to flow so easily out of his mouth at the moment, like they were perfectly natural things for twelve-year-olds to say.

Shikadai blamed his bizarre behavior on the stress.

"NOOO! No, please Shikadai, s-stop this, I-I'm b-begging you, please, not this, not this—"

Ryomen's frantic eyes darted over to the fallen Konoha shinobi. "M-Mirai—Mirai, p-please, dear girl, h-help me—"

Shikadai's eyes turned into two poisonous, green slits. "If you want their help, _you should have thought twice before giving that drugged candy to Chouchou, or thought twice before you had Mirai and Inojin poisoned_!"

"P-poisoned...? Drugged...candy? NO! T-there was nothing in that candy! Shikadai, I swear I have no idea what you're talking about, I swear— _I swear_ I don't have any bad intentions, I didn't have anything to do with this—"

" _Excuse me_."

Ryomen's mouth snapped shut when he was crudely interrupted, but Shikadai wasn't even talking to him.

Shikadai considered the six enemy shinobi to be his audience and he grew momentarily offended that one of them would try to leave in the middle of his... "performance". Not after it had taken him so much effort to build up to this climax. Shikadai's didn't move his body in the slightest, nor did he turn his head, but his eyes flickered to the side to land an unnerving gaze on one of the enemy shinobi he noticed was trying to sneak away from the scene. Somewhere in his subconscious, he realized that that was something Uncle Gaara did all the time—when he looked at you he _looked_ with his eyes only, sans body language. Shikadai realized now that it was the absence of unnecessary and excessive body movement and the lone movement of the eyes that emphasized the scrutiny and made it that much more intense. It worked; the sneaking shinobi who had been attempting to back away immediately stopped, his body freezing up on command, and slowly turned to meet an unwavering, penetrating teal gaze.

"Did I say you could leave?"

"U-uh, n-no, y-y-you, um—I-I—"

Shikadai was amazed what a change in demeanor could do to a person. Just minutes ago, these very shinobi had _literally_ been kicking Shikadai's ass, and now they looked ready to wet themselves even before Shikadai had opened his mouth to speak.

"I know all of you weren't ordered here by the Kazekage. You're all just Ryomen's goons," Shikadai accused in a relentless tone. He lifted his free hand to point at Ryomen, which in turn made Ryomen point back at him. "So none of you _dare_ leave here before _he_ tells you to." He removed the hand situated at his neck, forcing Ryomen to display the dripping weapon out in front of him, and the six shinobi's followed the deadly kunai with their eyes as if entranced. " _Or you're next_."

Shikadai roughly repositioned the kunai back at Ryomen's throat, who barely suppressed a pained cry. Any impartial observer would have wept for the man's predicament, but Shikadai spared not an ounce of pity within himself for the ocean-eyed man, and thus he continued with ease, redirecting his murderous gaze at Ryomen once again.

"All right then. Why don't know you call your little men away so we can continue this game of ours in private?"

"It won't be a-any use, Shikadai! I don't know a-anything about these guys! They're—they're shinobi from my country as far as I can tell but that's all! I really, honestly don't have anything to tell you, this—w-won't make any difference!"

Shikadai didn't bat an eye. "You have ten seconds. Ten...nine..."

Ryomen panicked. "NO!" his voice approaching wailing. "Please! Shikadai!"

"Seven...six...five..."

"I sweeeeear! You're m-mistaken—I'm not involved in any of this! I don't know anything—nothing, nothing at all!"

"Four...three...two...one..."

"P-please..." Ryomen was sobbing now. "Don't do this. Please have mercy! Please spare me!" He looked at Shikadai with desperate, pleading eyes. "Anything...anything but this..."

" _Zero._ "

Silence fell upon both the audience and the stage; it was as if death itself had descended upon the occupants of their little clearing.

 _Can I do this?_ Shikadai asked himself.

Could Shikadai Nara do this? The answer was no, Shikadai Nara could not do this. Shikadai Nara _could_ not do this, and _would_ not do this. But once again, like the night before when he'd trudged up his favorite hill in Konoha, he felt as if he was a separate entity from himself, looking down at a maddened, bloodied boy in the clearing forcing his Shadow Possession victim to hold a kunai up to his own neck. Who this mad boy was, Shikadai hadn't figured out yet, but he wondered whether this boy could do this...?

Ever so gradually, a hand began to relax its vice-like grip. Ryomen's face had relief painted all over it as he watched his own hand being guided away from excruciating and threatening placement at his throat. The blood-coated blade dripped both Shikadai's and Ryomen's blood onto the ground as it was led away from Ryomen's neck. "Sh-Shikadai," Ryomen half laughed, half sobbed. "T-thank you, thank you, I k-knew you wouldn't—"

Ryomen stopped short when he noticed something was...off. Shikadai watched in morbid fascination as the different emotions swam through Ryomen's ocean blue eyes, morphing from his initial relief into confusion before dawning into realization and suddenly drowning in undiluted horror.

Ryomen's hand had removed itself from its threatening position at his neck, but its journey did not stop once it had left there. The relaxing of his hold on the kunai had only been momentary, an the fingers of his right hand were now disloyally tightening around the slick, blood-drenched weapon once more as his left hand was raised to meet it. He tried to look away from his crimson hands that were currently being put on display, but the boy who had possessed him with his shadow wouldn't let him.

 _This is a just a task; nothing more than a simple motion_. This was just another step of the procedure Shikadai needed to take to get the answers he wanted. Maybe not the simplest of procedures this was, but Shikadai wanted those answers badly. _Shinobi always have to pay heavy prices,_ he told himself. He refused to look into Ryomen's eyes and instead fixated his attention on the task at hand.

He held his right hand over his left and began to exercise a deliberate back-and-forth movement with it.

The presence of Death in the clearing was replaced by that of his twin brother, Agony. Death was silent but his twin was not.

"GGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHH, AHH!"

Shikadai continued his task mechanically: _back, forth, back, forth_. Agony sure was noisy, he noticed, but it was just an inevitable side effect that came with the completion of his task.

Finally, Shikadai stopped his procedure, but Agony was obviously not as merciful. Ryomen was still screaming at the top of his lungs when Shikadai looked at him again. A pool of blood was forming at his feet into which more of the warm liquid continued to flow from Ryomen's hand.

Shikadai experimentally moved his left thumb and Ryomen did not copy this movement—not because of fault on the part of Shikadai's Shadow Possession Jutsu, but because Ryomen _no longer had a left thumb_.

 _Shikadai had made him saw his own thumb off with a kunai._

Very noticeably now, in its place, was raw, swollen, and mangled flesh that stood in stark and painful contrast to Ryomen's otherwise pallid skin. The jagged bone edges were a result of Shikadai's rough cutting. The said digit itself was lying in the same pool of blood Ryomen's hand was currently profusely supplying.

"AHHHHH—AHH!" Ryomen continued to wail, choking and sobbing.

That screaming... _the sound of it is a pure and unadulterated manifestation of the singular feeling of pain...it's almost...beautiful..._

It scared Shikadai to think of why he was thinking such thoughts, so he didn't try to think of why. Instead, he flashed his eyes around at the six shinobi who were standing there still to indicate them. He noticed that several of them had covered their mouths and that all of them were white as ghosts. They wanted nothing more than to get the hell away but fate had them rooted to the spot.

Shikadai looked back Ryomen. This time, without breaking eye contact, Shikadai repositioned Ryomen's kunai-bearing hand at the knuckle of his left index finger in silent warning. "You have ten more seconds," he said harshly.

A whirlpool of emotions surfaced in Ryomen's eyes, which were brimming with tears that poured down his cheeks in a deluge.

Some time during the next ten seconds, pain, frustration, confusion, and fear all built up and contorted in Ryomen's eyes until it was too much to contain and it all exploded. It was almost like watching a rope being pulled too tight and suddenly snapping. The agony was still there, but everything else in Ryomen's eyes suddenly ignited and became a burning fire fueled by some unknown vigor. Even Shikadai was taken aback a bit.

"DIDN'T YOU HEAR HIM?" Ryomen bellowed. "ALL OF YOU _GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE_!"

A foreign command and authority had taken over his voice—his "snap" seemed to have transformed him into a different man. Despite his vulnerable position, Ryomen had suddenly lost his former friendliness and innocence, replaced by red rage and something quite fearsome. At that moment, Shikadai saw Ryomen's facade finally dropped and a glimpse of whatever lay within.

The six shinobi didn't need to be told twice; like dogs ordered by their master, they bounded off into the distant woods, and Shikadai doubted he'd ever seen any ninja leap away so quickly before.

Not to be distracted by such trivialities, Shikadai redirected his attention to the man who had abandoned his cover at last. Ryomen's ordering away of those six shinobi—and their obey to his command—was more than enough of an admission to his guilt. A hole had been blown through the carefully constructed layers of fake affability, goodness, and weakness, and out of it outpoured a massive deluge of killer intent that was more brutal than that of the original six shinobi combined. Ryomen's ocean-blue eyes were simmering with hatred and had become infinite, hellish depths of boiling cruelty and animosity all directed solely at Shikadai. Had the boy not been rejoicing his triumph and in such a frenzied state himself, he definitely would have cowered at what was the most impressive display of pure, absolute detestation.

Although Shikadai still technically had leverage over Ryomen because of the Shadow Possession Jutsu he was exercising over the man, Ryomen's new demeanor seemed to raise him onto a higher pedestal, and rather than feeling like he had the advantage, Shikadai felt as if he was at a stalemate with Ryomen. Even with the pain reflected in it and the shimmer of both shed and unshed tears, Ryomen's glare was able to match Shikadai's own in ferocity, and that was really quite the feat.

Ryomen was no longer wailing, but the sound of his harsh panting echoed throughout the clearing. Verbally, the middle-aged man and the young genin were also at a stalemate.

A disruption to the silence finally came in the form of low, drawn-out chuckle from Ryomen that sounded amused in a demented way and unbearably exhausted. Shikadai could imagine him shaking his head had been able to control his own movements. "How pathetic. Look at what a few years out of commission has done to me. A little bit of pain and I can't even stand it." His voice still wavered a little bit but pride backed it up now.

"Hmph," Shikadai snorted. "I figured as much. So you _are_ shinobi after all." Their chat seemed so colloquial it was ridiculous—it didn't seem to match the situation at all. "I'm glad. Your fake screaming was getting troublesome; it was loud and annoying and giving me a headache."

"So you noticed? Goodness, I'm impressed, boy, not that it doesn't hurt like a son of a bitch," Ryomen replied in faux congratulations. "I had it all planned quite carefully, you know! I didn't really leave room for any gaps, but leave it up to you to ruin my plans!" Ryomen's voice was now bordering angry accusation. Perhaps that was what was distracting him from what should have been the intolerable pain in his hand. He took a few deep breaths to calm down. "But I guess I should have expected no less from the Kazekage's nephew." Ryomen spat out the last few words as if they were foul tasting.

Shikadai should have expected to be surprised at any given moment in this very unorthodox situation, but he couldn't hold back his blink. The compliments he'd been given through the years had almost always labeled him as his "father's son". Very rarely had he even been praised for being his "mother's son", and never had he been acknowledged as the nephew of the man who just so happened to be one of the most powerful shinobi on Earth and the leader of a foreign village. It was odd to receive that sort of recognition now from an absolute stranger and foreigner. Even though, with the way Ryomen had said those words, it hadn't been intended as a compliment.

 _That's unimportant_ , Shikadai told himself. "Hn. The hell _were_ your plans, exactly?"

Shikadai had been a bit apprehensive about asking this, unsure whether he would be met with reluctance to reveal the scheme on Ryomen's part. Of course, he could whip out the finger-severing again if he had to, but...

Shikadai's fears were unfounded. Ryomen, his foul intentions having been revealed now anyway, seemed suddenly very eager to describe his plans and just _what_ exactly Shikadai was the cause to all ruin to.

"It was five years worth of work for a lifetime's goal. Getting into the good graces of your lousy village leaders really was simple enough." Ryomen snorted at this. "All I had to do was be a nice and innocent civilian, sugar-coat everything I said, give them a few years to gain their trust, share a few _sob stories_ —and ta-da, I'm the Hokage's best friend." Ryomen rolled his eyes, and with a mocking tone, continued, "A good piece of advice for your Hokage would be not to make friends so easily with everybody. Not everyone out there is an good, innocent guy who deserves friendship." Shikadai had a feeling Ryomen wasn't referring to himself. Regardless of what he meant, though, Shikadai didn't like the man speaking about Uncle Naruto in such a way, and just to remind him of his position, pressed the kunai's blade a little more firmly into Ryomen's hand.

Ryomen winced and his eyes flashed indignation, but he continued. "Not that I'm complaining." He threw on a smirk. "Konoha operates nothing like Suna, and that made my job that much easier."

Shikadai narrowed his eyes but said nothing for the time being, wanting to hear the rest of it.

"I knew it would only be a matter of time before Team Ino-Shika-Chou was assigned to me. You _are_ one of the more prominent ninja teams in Konoha..."

"You've been spying on us?"

"Ha, ha, ha...in a manner of speaking...I suppose."

There was a pause.

"Mirai and your two teammates were useful parts of the equation...not that I had anything against _them_ at all. I had no intention of hurting any one of them—" Shikadai's eyebrows rose at this—"since they really had nothing to do with my purpose, which is why I merely used a paralytic substance on them. It temporarily shuts down motor function, though all mental facilities go unharmed. I did need witnesses, after all."

 _So they're awake_. Knowing now that he was being watched by Mirai, Chouchou, and Inojin, despite their being incapacitated and on the ground, Shikadai avoided glancing their way and possibly meeting their gazes. _They're all right and unhurt_ , Shikadai comforted himself, but somehow this good news did little to comfort him. _They saw everything that happened earlier. Everything that's happening now._

Ryomen chuckled lowly, which came out as a hoarse, scratchy sound. "Don't worry about them, boy. Worry about yourself..."

"Speak for yourself," Shikadai snapped, eyeing Ryomen's bloody hand for a moment. Blood from the gaping hole in his hand was still feeding the ground. "Witnesses for what?" Shikadai continued to interrogate.

A slightly deranged smile broke out on Ryomen's face. "Witnesses for Sunagakure's, or more specifically, the Kazekage's, international atrocity, of course..."

Shikadai had already deduced this information before, but hearing it happily coming from Ryomen's mouth made him very mad all of a sudden. Shikadai snarled at the man, but that only served to make Ryomen seem more amused.

"The scheme should have been foolproof, really. Ninja with Suna headbands should have directly linked to the Kazekage! _It should have worked_!" Ryomen lamented. Obviously, the plan had not worked, which was why he lamented. "Your shadow jutsu would have gotten in the way, so this clearing was the perfect location to fight you since there's nothing here you can extend your shadow with!" _So I was right about that after all, Shikadai noted_. "Your teammates were meant to be taken out quickly so as not to interfere as things went down. Then the Suna shinobi would have fought you to do the death! Of course, the final blow that ended your life had to be mine, which is why I presumably called out to help and warn you during the scuffle."

Shikadai was reminded of that brief passage of time during the fight when he had silently thanked Ryomen for giving him the heads-up about the kunai that had whizzed inches past his head.

"Ha! Those six were never meant to kill you at all! If they really wanted you dead you wouldn't have stood a chance, but of course, I gave them deliberate instructions to leave the best part for me."

Ryomen tried to shake his head before remembering that he couldn't, as he was still under the restraint Shikadai's jutsu. "I guess I should have gotten the job done sooner than later, huh? I mean, just look how things have turned out now!" he moaned.

"Get on with it," Shikadai ordered impatiently.

"Impatient, aren't we, boy?" Ryomen mocked. The pressure from a sharp blade digging into his skin let Ryomen know that the boy did not appreciate being made fun of.

"Hmph," Ryomen huffed, eyes glazed over as he tried to keep his voice steady and ignore the pain. "So, I called out to you while you were fighting to make it look like I was on your side. I told my shinobi to pretend to be provoked that I, a Land of Wind citizen, would support a Konoha ninja. They would have taken me at knifepoint, and of course a 'helpless civilian' like me wouldn't be able to fight back, ha, ha. Then they would have forced me to kill you! Of course, they would have left me untouched "

Somehow, Ryomen managed to muster a smirk, though Shikadai sensed a bit of despair mixed into it. "And thus, your teammates would have witnessed that I was simply victim to unfortunate circumstances, and that Sunagakure was responsible for your death! The Kazekage would have been blamed for this outrageous offence! And _I_ would not only be the one to deliver the blow that killed you, but would walk away from it scot-free!"

Having finished, Ryomen released a wild laugh; he would have thrown his head back had he been able. With his blood-splattered clothes, crazed eyes, and mangled hand, he was really quite a demented sight to witness.

Shikadai was affected, but not disturbed. He'd seen more disturbing things, and he'd been the one doing some of those just moments earlier. He allowed Ryomen to have his laugh—as annoying as it was to him—and silently processed the information that had just been told to him. _Plausible_ , Shikadai surmised. _Disgusting, but plausible._

The interrogation was far from over. "Where did you find that many shinobi to help you with this kind of...thing?"

"That was the least part of the problem. Many of us from Kyokai are former Suna shinobi who found that we had a common goal, which is why we decided to band together at the Fire-Wind border after we retired Sunagakure."

Shikadai pointedly scoffed with indignation and evident disgust. "You're telling me that you went through all that trouble, just to kill me? What good would it do to you? You're Wind Country, and I'm just some lowly Konoha genin. You obviously don't have anything against Konoha—" which explained why Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou were meant to have gone unharmed—"so why go out of your way to do something so troublesome? I mean, you seriously went all out with this elaborate plan of yours."

Ryomen seemed to laugh harder. "You really don't know anything at all, do you, boy? You being a Konoha ninja means nothing— _nothing_ to us at all! In fact, this has absolutely nothing to do with you! This started long ago—way before you were _born_ , boy—with the _cruel, twisted_ Kazekage family..."

Shikadai's breath hitched.

"We've long since stopped trying to kill the Kazekage. It's impossible to defeat him, and he has no fear for death. He was always so... _unaffected_ by everything. For a long time we wondered if the man truly had no weaknesses. But then, in due time, Fate rewarded us, because the Kazekage has one tragic flaw and its his greatest weakness of all..."

A chill started to creep up Shikadai's spine and he dreaded the moment it would reach up to his neck.

"There's really only one way to hurt the Kazekage..." Ryomen paused dramatically, and had Shikadai not been fighting for air in his anticipation he would have ordered the man to hurry up. _"...By taking someone precious away from him."_

Shikadai was smart. Intelligent; genius, even. He should have deduced the reason so many shinobi were trying to kill him from the very beginning, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it, too, but for some reason, hearing the real truth—that he had been targeted because of his Uncle Gaara, because someone wanted to _hurt_ his Uncle Gaara—made his heart stop for one full second. It was one of the few times he was being identified in relation to his uncle, and he was being identified as a target of kill?!

"Ha, ha, ha...I guess I should correct myself," Ryomen continued, managing to smirk cruelly. "There are very few things that can hurt the Kazekage, but taking away someone precious would _destroy him_."

Ryomen wasn't finished. "And not just any precious person, at that! His nephew! He would have seen it as his personal failure to protect you! If things had gone as planned, then not only would the four other Great Shinobi Nations turn on Sunagakure for its crime, but the Kazekage would be unable to fight back!" The thought made Ryomen fall once again into a maniacal, ecstatic laughter.

The wound in Shikadai's side was still burning with fire, and his muscles still aching with pain, but at that moment, cold seemed to seep into his bones and run through his veins from somewhere inside him. It was a moment of shock in which Shikadai felt as if icy water had been splashed onto his face, giving him a rude wake-up call into the frigid world.

 _I can't lose my composure_ , Shikadai chided himself amid the torrent of his thoughts. _Showing weakness to Ryomen would be his victory. I can't let him have that!_

As he had once before, Shikadai relied on his Nara talents of schooling his expression into one of general annoyance, belying his inner turmoil. "Seems like you know my uncle awfully well." _Seems like he knows Uncle Gaara better than I do._ Shikadai suppressed a shiver. To make up for his nervousness he dug the kunai even deeper into Ryomen's knuckle, cutting through the skin and perhaps even reaching bone. He reminded himself that he still had the advantage. "Some shinobi you are, aren't you? You do realize this is treason; how _disgusting_. To go against your own Kage like that?"

Shikadai had meant to strike a nerve with his comments, he had meant to demean his enemy by using the subtle threat of violence with the kunai; he had intentionally lighted the fuse. However, Ryomen simply stopped all actions and stared at Shikadai in absolute silence, his chilly ocean-blue eyes unreadable.

Then the fire reached the end of the fuse, at which point there was a tank of gasoline that exploded upon impact. Shikadai witnessed a man turn into an animal.

" _HOW. DARE. YOU_?!" Ryomen screamed. For the first time since he had been captured the man started to truly struggle against the bonds of Shikadai's Shadow Possession Jutsu. Shikadai was reminded of a wild beast attempting to tear off the chains that bound it. Shikadai grit his teeth in an attempt to hold on—he was suddenly reminded that he was keeping Ryomen in place at the expense of a lot of chakra. If it were not for the mad determination he usually did not possess, Shikadai was sure he would have been squeezed of all his "juice" a lot earlier.

"How dare you—undermine my—shinobi status—question my loyalty—to the— _Kazekage_!" Ryomen's voice sounded to be ripping itself from his throat, and his eyes were demented and unfocused. "That man—and the son of a bitch before him—they're no Kazekages! Aren't Kazekages supposed to protect their citizens—and shinobi? No—those men are nothing—of the sort—or I wouldn't be this poor creature you see today! No—no— _no_ —they're nothing of the sort— _nothing_! They dare—don the Kazekage robes and hat! No—what an atrocity! I cannot stand—they dare—people bow before them—" Ryomen in his frenzied state was growing ever the more incoherent. "No—they are nothing but—monsters and demons—how can such—beings—call themselves—Kazekage—"

Shikadai found this new Ryomen to be rather unnerving. His franticness was getting to Shikadai himself, whose heart jumped erratically at the sound of the jumbled words. " _What the hell are you talking about_?" Shikadai yelled back.

"Oh, I'll tell you what I'm talking about, boy!" Ryomen shrieked, wheezing as he panted and gasped wheezing for air. "I was loyal to the Kazekage once, and I always was and still am loyal to Sunagakure! My family—a revered shinobi clan who served—diligently—as servants, no— _slaves_ , under the tyranny of the Fourth Kazekage!"

Ryomen's eyes were distant, and the fire that burned within them no longer was being directed at Shikadai, but at memories of the past.

 _The Fourth Kazekage_? Shikadai had only ever heard vaguely of the previous Kazekage, who he learned had been in power during his mother's childhood. As far as he knew, the Fourth Kazekage had died when his mother was still young—his uncles even younger—and shortly thereafter none other than his Uncle Gaara had become the Kazekage at the age of fifteen. "The Fourth Kazekage? I thought that guy died ages ago? You sure can hold a grudge—"

" _GRUDGE_?" Ryomen was screaming again. "Don't speak of things you know nothing about, boy!"

For the first time, Shikadai obeyed, unable to come up with a rebuttal and too shaken by Ryomen's demeanor to do so anyway. The man continued panting and gasping, fury written all over his face, though the seconds ticked by and the vehemence dwindled down to remain only in his eyes.

When Ryomen spoke again, his voice was now a deadly calm, and Shikadai wasn't sure if he preferred this Ryomen or the feral one. "The Fourth Kazekage. Hmph. That man—he was a good Kage, I suppose. Once.

"The members of my clan were among his most prized shinobi. We were all skilled in Water Release, a rarity in the Hidden Sand. Not only that, but we were skilled at mining for gold, which he needed to make his Gold Dust."

 _Gold Dust? The stuff that Uncle Gaara mixed his sand with in my hourglass..._

 _"_ Many of us became his most trusted shinobi, advisers, and consultants. A lot of people in Suna were skeptical of him, especially since he became Kazekage shortly after Lord Third's mysterious disappearance—but not us! We were honored to serve under the Fourth Kazekage; his presence among us was revered, and a mere mention of him was enough to make us swell with pride! Every mission we succeeded in doing for him was yet another accomplishment on the list of things we were proud of doing!"

Ryomen's tale was like a piece of foreboding music, and after a suspenseful rest, it suddenly dropped a menacing two octaves lower.

"And then...everything changed."

There was a pause. It was a corny line overused in the art of storytelling, but somehow it was adequate in sending shivers up Shikadai's spine in this situation.

"Everything changed when Suna was plagued by the _demon_."

 _What the hell? A demon?_ thought the incredulous boy _. No, he said_ _the_ _demon._

"With the demon around the village of Sunagakure was no longer safe. He lived among us, always out of sight but always _there_! No one could sleep during the night and people could barely breathe during the day. Living was a nightmare and nightmares became a dream! The demon came from the deepest recesses of hell and he brought hell to Sunagakure with him!

"With him around, it was good news to hear that no one had died during the day, although we hardly ever heard any good news. If we heard good news during the day then we'd have to worry about the night. The demon never rested, after all."

Ryomen's voice crescendoed signficantly. "And what did the Fourth Kazekage do about it? Did he save us? Did he protect us? _NO_! _He_ was the one who created the monster in the first place!"

Shikadai winced. Though he felt no pity for the man before him, his story was inspired some sympathy. What kind of lunatic was this Fourth Kazekage? And what about the monster—what was that? But yet another question was bugging him.

 _Why didn't Mom, Uncles—anyone—ever tell me about this sort of thing that had happened?_

"No, the Fourth Kazekage didn't protect us. The cowardly asshole! He didn't face his mistakes, he didn't stand by us! He let the demon continue to terrorize us. He wanted the demon dead—and what did the Kazekage do about that? Sent his shinobi—the people who trusted and served him—straight into the demon's awaiting jaws! The demon's weakness was believed to be water, so can you imagine what happened to my _family_? My _clan_?"

 _Ryomen said his clan specialized in Water Release. That means..._

Shikadai gulped.

"What happened to the—demon?" Shikadai asked. He foolishly felt like a small child listening to Ryomen's storytelling of a gruesome tale. He wasn't sure if satisfying his curiosity was even the best idea, judging by the way Ryomen was acting, but he still couldn't hold back.

Dread settled in Shikadai's stomach and grew like a parasite when, like the flick of a switch, the Ryomen's crazed demeanor and he started cackling like a witch, laughing so hard that Shikadai noticed tears beading around his eyes.

"Ha, ha, ha! Would you listen to him?" Ryomen was no longer addressing Shikadai, leaving the genin unsure of how to handle his enemy turned lunatic. "He asked what happened to the demon! Seems like he really has no idea, ha ha! Looks like he's in for a big disappointment, ha ha!"

Of all the sensations coursing through his body, Shikadai could now only make out the thudding of his heart against his rib cage.

"You know what happened to the demon," Ryomen continued.

"What do you mean?"

Ryomen would have cocked his head at the boy. In a sickly sweet, faux patient tone, Ryomen explained, "You see, _child_ , the demon, as we so call it, is none other than...

" _Sabaku no Gaara_."

Ryomen's story was really just beginning. To Shikadai it sounded like the beginning of the end.

"No," Shikadai croaked in protest.

"Oh, but it's true, boy! How long do you think your uncle was planning to keep you in the dark and _lie_ to you about his true nature and past?"

"D-don't say that—you don't know him—"

"He says I don't I know him! Sabaku no Gaara! Oh, _Shikadai_ , you have no idea."

The tides of this game were turning.

"Hurts, doesn't it? To have your own precious uncle lie to you just to realize what a _monster_ he is."

Shikadai could no longer identify the source, but it was true: he _was_ hurting.

"Uncle Gaara isn't a monster—"

"No, no—of course your Uncle Gaara isn't a monster! Of course Lord Kazekage isn't a monster!" Ryomen mocked. "I said it before and I'll say it again: you don't know anything."

Shikadai was stifled into silence. _No_ , was the only thing the voice in his mind was telling him.

"As I was saying—before I was— _so rudely interrupted_! The Fourth Kazekage and Sabaku no Gaara. What a scandal! The Fourth Kazekage created Gaara as a weapon to protect the village. Rather ineffective, wouldn't you say? The only thing that monster saw himself protecting was his _prey_.

"Lord Fourth could have killed him! Lord Fourth was strong enough and the monster, despite being a monster, was still inexperienced. But I guess the Fourth Kazekage decided to turn the whole thing into some kind of sick spectacle. As if there hadn't been enough spilt blood!

"All of us shinobi were so loyal to him! And if we ever thought he even cared an ounce about the welfare of his ninja we were quickly proven wrong. The list of Lord Fourth's trusted ninja soon became a list of potential sacrifices!

 _How many of them...?_ Shikadai wondered in sick awe. _A couple...? A dozen...? And what happened to them...?_

Shikadai soon received his answer. "Over one hundred assassination attempts, Shikadai! Over one hundred shinobi killed on the job within the confines of the walls of their own village!"

 _The Fourth Kazekage tried to kill Uncle Gaara over one hundred times._ Shikadai thought dumbly.

 _"_ _The Fourth Kazekage was in power when I was kid," Temari explained. "He died when we were all pretty young. Nothing special about him."_

 _Way to understate the situation, Mom,_ Shikadai thought.

"No," he croaked again, the conviction in his voice noticeably weaker.

"A summon from the Fourth Kazekage used to be a privilege!" Ryomen lamented. "Now, it was nothing more than an execution order...

"It started out with distant members of our clan...I was young and foolish back then, and it never seemed like a reality...even when distant relatives started disappearing one by one, I thought I was _untouchable_...

"Our clan was like a great tree with its branches spread out far and wide all over Sunagakure! And the Kazekage decided to make sport by cutting off our branches slowly and surely, forcing us to suicide...

"It was only later that shinobi started to disappear at night and never come back in the morning...it was only then that I started to take notice...of course, it was too late already by then!"

 _Too late for what_ , Shikadai dreaded.

"First it was my uncles and aunts, and then my cousins. The Fourth Kazekage was an impatient man, and there was never a chance to say goodbye. In the blink of an eye they were cut off our family tree like they'd never even _existed..."_

Ryomen inhaled sharply, and Shikadai didn't even bother to hide the flash of fear that crossed his eyes this time...the story was only get worse and worse...

"One night, my family was just about to settle down for dinner when the Fourth Kazekage summoned my father for a mission. My mother begged him to stay and least finish the meal together as a family, but it was an S-class mission he couldn't ignore."

 _S-class is the highest rank of all missions...and his mission was to...?_

"Father told Mother that we could have breakfast together in the morning...we believed him, but we waited for him all night...

"What happened to him...?" Shikadai whispered. He had to know exactly what kind of fate shinobi who were sent to assassinate Uncle Gaara suffered.

Ryomen appeared to not have heard him, too caught up in his own story to notice. Regardless, his next words answered Shikadai's question anyway.

"We could never properly bury him because they never did find a body...that's not to say they didn't find him, though."

 _They found him but not a body? What the hell?_

"The Fourth Kazekage didn't even have the courtesy to show up...ANBU knocked on our door to tell us they'd found a puddle of blood...my mother had begged them to let us go see it, perhaps he was alive after all, perhaps we could find some kind of clue from what he'd left behind? The ANBU said it was useless but took us anyway..."

 _What did they see...?_

"Ha," Ryomen chuckled bitterly. He raised his eyes to look straight at Shikadai, piercing through his fearful soul.

"Ever seen your uncle kill someone, boy?"

"N-no—"

"We didn't find a puddle of blood, Shikadai. What we found was a lake of human pureé."

 _They never found a body...human pureé..._ the thoughts whirled about in Shikadai's head like a storm.

Until suddenly, all the winds in his mind stopped to be replaced by dead silence when he put two and two together like the snapping of a puzzle piece, and he understood what Ryomen was saying.

"No," he croaked yet again.

Shikadai had finally gotten his wish. He was finally unlocking the door that held the secrets of Uncle Gaara. A stroke of luck had been involved, but he was now successfully taking on the shougi opponent who held the mystery behind his uncle.

He wanted nothing more than for it to stop.

But it was too late to forfeit.

"The monster wasn't wasn't stupid. No...it was a smart and evil little thing...by the time he murdered my father he'd realized that many of the ones who were sent after him were members of our clan. And we became his preferred targets, even when we weren't trying to assassinate him.

"I don't think the demon did it out of revenge. Something like him wouldn't care about stuff like that. No, I think he was addicted to the taste of our blood."

Shikadai shuddered, not sure whether it was because of the gruesome monster in the tale or the fact that he was the nephew of the tale's said monster.

"As I said, I was young, stupid and foolish at the time. I spent every waking moment fearing my life and trying to protect myself, when all the while I should have been trying to protect the one of us who had the sweetest blood of all..."

Shikadai watched in shock as tears slid down Ryomen's cheeks. For a brief moment, those ocean-blue eyes reflected nothing but grief.

"She was so kind and gentle...so beautiful and loving...so _loyal_ to Sunagakure...even after everything he'd done she didn't hate the Fourth Kazekage..."

Ryomen's voice wavered a bit as he spoke. "The ANBU knocked on our door one day. They were able to collect the body this time, but I don't if that was better or worse. Tsunako was no longer recognizable, b-because her—it was only her torso left. Her arms and legs and—h-head had been torn off."

Ryomen squeezed his eyes shut, either to recall the horrific scene or to force it from his mind. "Her—limbs weren't just _missing_ , either. You could tell that they'd been—violently ripped off of her. I hope with all my heart that Tsunako was dead before all of—that—happened—so that she didn't have to experience too much pain—but considering the demon...I h-highly doubt that..."

"Who was Tsunako?" Shikadai inquired softly, almost sympathetically. _A relative? A friend? A lover?_

Ryomen opened his eyes with a distant look of nostalgia in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and his voice exuded more pain than did his scream when Shikadai had sliced his thumb off. "Tsunako...was my _twin sister_."

Shikadai gasped, and unable to help himself, took a step backward away from Ryomen. This only caused Ryomen to follow suit and back away from Shikadai.

 _He had a twin sister...and_ _that's_ _what happened to her?_

The swallow Shikadai attempted to push down his throat got stuck halfway.

"When the Fourth Kazekage was found dead, I rejoiced at the prospect of a leader worthy of the title finally coming forth. But who should replace him as Fifth Kazekage besides..." Ryomen vilely spat out his next words, "...the self-proclaimed, reformed monster Sabaku no Gaara?

"When I woke up the morning after the demon's installation as Kazekage, I found that my mother had hung herself, unable to live with the fact that the very monster that had taken away her clan, cousins, siblings, husband, and child...was now supposed to lead her people. The citizens of Suna were young and foolish as I had once been, and they seemed to welcome their new 'Kazekage' with open arms. But how could I? I was no longer so stupid and ignorant. But what could I do? History had told with bloody results that even the greatest of attempts would be unable to harm Gaara...

"That is...until his _precious_ _nephew_ was born..."

The information continued to feed into Shikadai's mind and it was almost too much for him to croak. Yet again, he croaked, "No..."

All at once, Ryomen's previous frenzy returned to him, and Shikadai found himself taking yet another step backward. "THAT is why you cannot question my loyalty as a shinobi to Sunagakure! It is because I love my home country so much that I cannot allow it to continue to be ruled by a monster! I cannot allow the people of Suna to serve a man who cold-bloodedly murdered their kin and brethren! How can the Kazekage possibly be protecting the people of Suna when his sand is still soaked with the blood of their dead? How can my father and sister rest in peace when their corpses still lie within the sand that their murderer uses as his ultimate defense to protect himself, when he wears their dead bodies on his skin like armor? _How_?"

Shikadai stopped listening, as he found himself with a larger predicament: his mind was shutting down. "No," he croaked once again in despair, more to himself than to anyone else.

 _Uncle Gaara. Sabaku no Gaara._

He was a man Shikadai shared flesh and blood with. For all the years of his life that he'd known the man, Shikadai had known next to nothing about him. No one had ever told Shikadai anything about Uncle Gaara. Uncle Gaara had never told Shikadai anything.

Nevertheless, to Shikadai, the name Sabaku no Gaara may have been shrouded in much mystery but brought with it unquestionable honor, glory, and _good_.

How could the words that Shikadai had used to describe Uncle Gaara be paired with the words that described what was apparently the truth? Wise... _psychopathic_. Honorable... _tainted_. Moral... _cold_ - _blooded_. Humane... _torturer_. Levelheaded... _insane_. Hero... _murderer_.

Uncle... _demon_.

Grief and despair clawed at Shikadai's soul, and the word _No_ chanted over and over in his head, attempting to convince himself.

He wanted to escape. Wanted it to end. He needed a way out of the sickening truth that was slowly killing him, agonizingly and torturously.

The way out suddenly came with the feeling of fire rushing through his veins, although this time, the feeling was did come from the wound in his side—long forgotten by now—nor did it accompany the name _Pain_ —at least, no the physical kind.

This new feeling was _Power_. Shikadai succumbed to it.

Shikadai removed his gaze from the man before him, deciding that he no longer wanted to hear any wretched words the man had to offer. He had the power to make the flow of horrible words stop.

Instead, he looked down at his own hands. His right hand was still hovering over his splayed left hand. His two hands were a kunai's distance from one another.

Without looking up, Shikadai jerked his right hand as roughly as possibly above his left knuckles.

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

If Ryomen had truly been putting up an act with his screaming earlier, his act had come to an end. The animalistic wail that pierced through the air was almost too miserable and excruciating to even be called human.

Shikadai purposefully moved with harsh, brutal movements, trying to ensure that Ryomen's fingers would come clean off without the luxury of a clean cut.

 _The music that was the sound that emanated from Ryomen's tortured soul fed into his own and increased the assurance of his own existence, increased the knowledge of his own power that he could exercise so well over another human being..._

Once Shikadai had become bored of the hand, he continued his ministrations along the wrist and forearm, sometimes dragging his right hand in slow, sweet agony and at other times setting fire to flesh, ripping it at lightning speed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

In his brain, he cursed. Cursed his family and friends for never telling him something so important. Cursed his parents, cursed Konoha 12, cursed the Hokage...

 _They were always so touchy around the subject of Uncle Gaara. Is this why?_

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Ryomen continued to howl.

 _They never told me anything. Just dropped a few hints here and there while pretending everything was okay._

 _"_ _The difficulty of the past he burdens..." Uncle Lee had said. "I cannot deny that such things are not my place to say! If you do not know them, then I believe it is for a reason! I am sure you will find out in due time!"_

 _I found out in due time all right. From a stranger and sworn enemy..._

 _"_ _Sabaku no Gaara..." Inojin said. "You have no idea what Mom's told me about him—"_

 _This is not okay._

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye momentarily distracted Shikadai from his reflections.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONEEEEE!"

Shikadai noticed something falling to the ground, tattered and dyed soaked in a luscious red. The only sign of what the nearly unrecognizable object used to be were the patches of protruding skin and bone, although it looked like it been put through a food processor. The words _human_ _pureé_ suddenly came to mind once again.

Shikadai looked up to see the stump of an arm hemorrhaging at all too fast a rate.

 _How much blood can one person lose?_

Shikadai continued staring with wide eyes at a sight that, had it been yesterday, would have made him sick and vomiting. The victim of his ministrations continued to holler and curse at him, but amidst the unfolding scene the sounds were nothing more than mere distractions—side effects, even—to Shikadai. Now, his teal eyes penetrated the sight, seeing and unseeing at the same time, regarding the gore as a mere trifle, while his mind was plunged into depths of greater bewilderment.

 _Uncle Gaara..._

 _How come he never told me...?_

Shikadai desperate soul searched, clawed, for a lifeline to cling onto, something that would dam the painful torrent of his thoughts.

And just like that, spiraling vortex froze in its place at the startling visual that invaded every corner of his brain.

The sight of a pair of ringed, pale green eyes.

Uncle Gaara was a reserved man who was veiled behind constantly shifting clouds of sand and an immovable facade. A man whose words and thoughts were hidden behind a calm, deafeningly silent exterior.

Shikadai knew that Uncle Gaara revealed more to him, spoke more to him, than the Kazekage did anyone else. Shikadai had spent many precious moments with his uncle, and they were experiences that no one else shared.

Even in the presence of his nephew, Gaara seldom opened his mouth to speak, barely given an indication of what he was feeling, but in comparison with what others saw of Sabaku no Gaara, Shikadai had ventured far deeper into the labyrinth of that mysterious soul than anyone else in the world, who had seen nothing but a steel surface—except, perhaps, the other two Sand Siblings.

And during those times in which Gaara bared a bit of his hidden self to Shikadai, what had he shown to his nephew?

 _"_ _The stars can never touch the ones they so faithfully watch over night after night, but perhaps it is enough to simply be able to watch the ones they love...forever. That is why...I strive to be like the stars...to always be watching over the people who need me..."_

 _Uncle Gaara believed he would never be able to become close to the ones he loved._

 _"_ _I was under the impression that humans found shiny things aesthetically pleasing," Uncle Gaara had explained, leaving his confused nephew to wonder why Gaara spoke as if separating himself from the rest of humanity._

 _"_ _...Why...? Why would you want to spend your day in my presence...voluntarily?"_

 _All this time, Uncle Gaara has considered himself a monster no one would want to get close to..._

 _"_ _Sleep evades those who are insane..."_

 _All this hasn't been trying to hide anything from me at all...he actually told me...everything. I was just too thick skulled to see it._

 _In fact, it seemed like he was warning me...because he was only trying to protect me...again..._

Uncle Gaara had bared his soul before Shikadai for him to see, and Shikadai had seen eyes that possessed no darkness but had seen every corner of that lonely place.

Shikadai came to a conclusion.

"D-do you finally s-see it now, Shikadai?" Ryomen asked with vengeance in his voice, regarding the boy who zoned out within his thoughts. Shikadai could imagine that Ryomen was going through nothing less than absolute hell, and the only thing keeping his mind clear had to be a hatred towards Gaara and Shikadai that was even more absolute than his pain. "How you're beloved uncle is nothing more than a—a monster?"

Shikadai brought his eyes up to look straight into Ryomen's eyes, no longer fearing to look into them. Everything that those eyes had hidden underneath a facade had been exposed to Shikadai, and the secrets they held no longer scared him.

"No," Shikadai said again, although this time, it was a confident statement that didn't come out as a croak in an attempt to convince himself. "No."

Ryomen seethed at Shikadai, low growls enamating from his throat. Shikadai ignored him. He refused to lose this game.

"I don't care if what you said about Uncle Gaara is true. In fact, I believe you. That look in your eyes...I can tell you're not lying anymore. But I grew up with Uncle Gaara and I know that my uncle is _not a monster_! He's no longer whatever he may have been in the past, and me knowing about Uncle Gaara's past now doesn't change anything about the way he is now! I'm not going to let what some stranger says about my uncle change how I feel about him! And I—Uncle Gaara is precious to me. Shikadai swallowed. "I-I _love him_."

Silence settled in as both Shikadai and Ryomen allowed what the former had just said to sink in.

"You dare say that about the monster!" Ryomen shrieked in disbelief. "How can you say that, knowing what kind of a thing he is! That monster doesn't deserve any love! All he deserves is all the pain he's caused the caused me! Caused Sunagakure! Caused the world!"

"Uncle Gaara's only ever given me happiness!" Shikadai argued back. "He helped saved the world from hell! I know he doesn't deserve anything back but happiness and acceptance—that's a fact!"

In the back of his mind, Shikadai thought with bitterness of Konoha's behavior towards his uncle. Uncle Gaara hadn't yet received the acceptance he truly deserved yet.

"Do you know what else is a fact?" Shikadai asked in a low voice filled with peril. "As sorry as I am for you for everything that's happened in your shitty life, you tried to hurt Uncle Gaara. You tried to hurt. _My. Family_! And that makes _you_ the monster, not Uncle Gaara! And _I can't forgive you for that_!"

Ryomen and Shikadai both cried out at the same time as Shikadai raised his right hand once again and prepared to plunge the both of them into another session of sweet torture, although the probably cried out for opposite reasons.

This time, Shikadai kept his eyes fixed upon his enemy as the kunai plunged, lower and lower, nearer to that abhorred flesh that would split open to feed the world with more of that precious, sticky red elixir called blood...

Then the kunai halted, a millimeter away from piercing through skin.

Shikadai's mind drew a blank. He looked back down at himself, and then back at Ryomen.

 _Did the Shadow Possession Jutsu fail?_

Experimentally, Shikadai continued to attempt to move his right hand up and down. Ryomen's did not follow suit.

Shikadai opened his hand. If the jutsu was still working, the same should have happened to Ryomen's only remaining one.

Ryomen's hand remained tightely wrapped around the kunai.

Shikadai gasped and took a step backward. Ryomen did not mirror him and step away as he should have; he stepped one step closer to Shikadai.

"Hehehe...take a look at yourself, boy..."

In the part of Shikadai's mind that wasn't alarmed and hyperventilating...he wondered how Ryomen could possibly still have energy to sound amused after the intense hand-severing he'd just endured.

Shikadai looked down at himself. More specifically, his shadow, which should have been connected to Ryomen's.

Instead, he found that their shadows had been separated. Shikadai's shadow lay around his feet, but was no longer extended around Ryomen's.

 _Shit! My chakra! I was so caught up that I didn't realize I'd run out!_

In a desperate attempt, Shikadai clasped his hands together again in the Shadow's Possession Jutsu's signature hand seal. The endeavor sent a shock of electricity shooting through Shikadai's body, and he doubled over and collapsed in pain at straining his already exhausted chakra reserves.

 _How did this happen...?_

Shikadai had checkmated the king. And now he was the one who'd been checkmated. He'd never heard of a game where a player could escape checkmate. He'd never heard of the player who had checkmated his opponent losing.

Shikadai had never lost before.

There was a first time for everything, it seemed.

Death descended upon the clearing for a second time that day, but this time, it took the form a one-handed, bleeding, deranged, kunai-bearing human.

Shikadai wasn't supposed to live today. He wasn't supposed to survive this ordeal; it seemed Fate didn't want him to ever leave this clearing. He had already cheated Death once, and delayed his arrival into the netherworld, and rather than with a swift blow that ended his life, Shikadai saw Death advancing, step by slow step, towards him with laborious movements.

Death held a dripping kunai in his one arm—dripping blood that wasn't all Shikadai's own; most of it was blood Shikadai had the hand of spilling himself. It was kunai with which Shikadai had committed many heinous crimes today.

Now, that same kunai would spill Shikadai's blood for the final time.

Death opened its mouth to speak. Each word tolled to Shikadai's final moments.

"You know, when I found out that the Kazekage's nephew was a Nara child from Konoha, I didn't know whether to feel cheated or relieved. The Naras are smart, after all, but they're not too hard to kill, if you put your mind to it.

"But it turns out killing you was very hard—Shikadai Nara! So hard, in fact, that I don't think I'll live long after I kill you—I've lost too much blood. Because of you! I'm looking into your eyes and I see that you're a demon just like your uncle. The last spawn of a family of demons! But your kind has spilled too much of the blood of my kind—and today you shall return it to us in death!

"I never thought that ending your life would be so gratifying. Because your eyes—your eyes are just like the sand demon's! They're full of evil and cruelty and a desire to bring pain upon us human beings—just look at the state I'm in right now! And killing you—will be just like getting to kill the sand demon itself! Father, Mother, beloved Sister—you will finally be—avenged at last! This boy has the same eyes as the one who murdered you—he even has those—accursed—rings around his eyes—"

 _He's truly lost too much blood_ —Shikadai thought— _my eyes don't look anything like Uncle Gaara's—they don't have rings around them! He's delirious, that's what—_

"NOW DIE, DEMON!"

The sharp end of the blade was now pointed towards Shikadai, coming so fast it was nothing more than a crimson blur that glinted maliciously in the sun.

Life truly was a cheater. It had given Shikadai all the time in the world to do anything he wanted, and he'd spent it doing things that didn't really matter.

And now, it didn't even give him enough time to say goodbye...

* * *

"All right, Lord Hokage, if you would please just sign right here," said the Mizukage Chojuro, passing a piece of paper that would renew the trade agreements between the Five Great Shinobi Nations to the Hokage.

"Oh—okay," said Naruto Uzumaki, grinning mischievously—as always. "If you really want my autograph so badly..."

Eyes were rolled around the room as Naruto picked up his pen with a flourish, and brought his hand down to the paper to sign his name—

"Naruto—" a voice called out in simultaneously lazy and alarmed tone. Only one person in the world had mastered the art of sounding lazy and alarmed at the same time, and his name was—

"Whaaat, Shikamaru, do you not want me to sign this piece of paper that will make everyone happy?"

"That's not it," said Shikamaru, Naruto's adviser, suddenly smirking. "I'm just pretty sure that the Kazekage's name is not Naruto Uzumaki."

Naruto's neon blonde head snapped back down at the treaty paper, and sure enough, his hand was positioned to sign in the designated spot for the Kazekage.

His expression turned quickly from mischievous to sheepish. "Ahh...I'm sure Gaara wouldn't mind, right Gaara?" He grinned at his red-haired friend before proceeding to sign his name at the correct spot.

Gaara showed no visible reaction.

Behind him, Kankuro glanced surreptitiously at his little brother. Only a sibling of Gaara's would be able to tell that something was a little...off. The Kazekage always sat in a tense position, but if possible, he was even tenser than usual today.

Kankuro sighed. Gaara was a troublesome little brother.

He sighed again. Shikamaru was a bad influence of a brother-in-law.

"Seriously—a smiley face?" said an amused female voice, and heads turned to see Kurotsuchi, the Tsuchikage, leaning over the table to see the Hokage in deep concentration as he sketched a smiley face to the end of his signature.

"Hey—don't judge me!" Naruto yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the Tsuchikage's face. "At least I'm not a boooooring, no-fun coot who sits around frowning with their arms crossed all day!"

In fact, there was only one person in the room who was sitting with his arms crossed. The Kazekage.

"Seriously, you guys need to lighten up!"

The Hokage's advice was heeded, as laughter and snorts erupted throughout the Kage Summit meeting room, with a few playfully bantering back at the Hokage. The only person who showed no response of any sort was...the Kazekage.

To Gaara, such chitchat was simply a distraction in the doing of more important deeds. Also, humor was a foreign language to the Kazekage.

Gaara received the treaty papers from Naruto wordlessly and in a neat, elegant hand, signed his own name in his allotted space. The room fell a little quiter at the sight of the stately, serious Kazekage. It was easy to sober up when was in his presence.

The treaty papers were filed away and the Kage Summit proceeded to the next subject to tackle. The Tsuchikage requested to speak first.

"All right...I wanted to talk about the Allied Shinobi Forces. They're doing better than ever, and I'm not worried about the standards of our shinobi. However, it has come to the attention of Iwagakure, Kirigakure, and Kumogakure—" Kurotsuchi nodded at the Kage of said villages—"that there are a surplus of Konoha and Suna shinobi in the forces. In a time of peace, we fear that this may give you two villages a leverage over the rest of us—"

Most people didn't understand the nature of Sabaku no Gaara's sand. They saw it simply as a chakra-infused substance with which the Kazekage fought.

But it was really much more than that. The sand was like a manifestation of the man's spirit. Every microscopic grain carried with it a part of Gaara's soul, and the night before, Gaara had given a part of his "soul" to a very precious person.

At that moment, those very grains that held a part of Gaara's soul had been jarred very violently.

Not even Kankuro anticipated it when Gaara rose from the table with a _Bang!_ , so quickly that his chair toppled underneath him, although somehow, he managed to remain proud and elegant despite having knocked his chair over. Everyone in the room noticeably jumped.

One could feel a shiver course through the summit room when pale, ringed eyes narrowed at its occupants. "This meeting," Gaara uttered, "is over."

"Whaaat!" screeched Naruto.

"Lord Kazekage—" began the Raikage, Darui, at the same time Kankuro said, "Gaara—"

The Tsuchikage was a hot-tempered woman of her own. Not appreciating being interrupted, she stood up, knocking her own chair over in the process. "We're in the middle of the Five Kage Summit right now! You can't just—"

"Important matters stand in the way of this summit's continuation," Gaara explained, the low volume of his voice somehow matching Kurotsuchi's yelling. "We must resume at another time."

"And don't you consider _this_ important?"

"I consider the lives of shinobi important," Gaara said, warning dripping off his voice. "I will not be the one who stands in the way of their survival."

The crimson-haired man turned his stern gaze to Naruto, who could sense by his friend's demeanor that something was very wrong.

"I will meet you later in your office, Naruto. Privately."

With that, the Kazekage turned and left the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Not needing to be told, his brother Kankuro hurried after him, sending the rest of the room—most notably a fuming Tsuchikage—an apologetic wave.

Once they had left the vicinity of the meeting room, Kankuro exploded, "Gaara! What are you _thinking_! Leaving a meeting with no proper explanation! Did you see how mad the Tsuchikage—"

He immediately shut up at the look in his baby brother's eyes. "Send an emergency message by electronic mail to Baki," Gaara instructed, voice low and urgent. "Tell him to deploy chunins Shinchi and Icho to the outskirts of the village of Kyokai near the Fire Country border. They are to leave immediately on a rescue mission."

Kankuro's eyes widened at that, but he didn't hesitate to nod his affirmative before he hurried off to carry the message.

Gaara had not turned all the way around before his body dissolved in a swirl of sand.

The whirling grains reappeared in front of a quaint-looking house. Gaara's body had not even completely materialized before an arm of sand pulled the door open without invitation.

Within seconds, a kunoichi appeared at the door, her weapon of choice tucked underneath her arm. Normally, she would already be in the middle of beating the hell out the trespasser, but this time, she could recognize the chakra of the trespasser anywhere.

"Gaara!" Temari cried out, worried and concerned. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be—"

Much like the way her brother Kankuro had, Temari shut up at the look in Gaara's eyes. She realized immediately that this was not her little brother standing in front of her. This was her Kazekage in his full command and authority.

"Temari," her Kazekage told her, eyeing the giant iron fan she was already carrying and ready to use. "You have a mission. You leave immediately."

* * *

The sound of a surprised cry and breaking glass pierced the air.

 _Is this what Death sounds like?_ Shikadai wondered.

If it was, it certainly sounded...weird.

Shikadai's eyes were screwed shut; he'd decided that he'd rather not watch himself getting killed. After a few moments of nothingness, he decided to cautiously open them again, fully expecting the man and woman named Rasa and Karura to be there waiting for him, to take him on a new journey.

At first, a blinding light greeted him, and then indeed, there they were—a male and female figure, standing right in front of him.

He almost smiled until he realized that there were several things severely wrong about the situation.

First of all, why weren't they facing him? Shikadai was directly behind them, and he stared up at their backs, unable to see their faces.

Second of all, why was the woman made out of—

"Sand?"

Shikadai started at hearing Ryomen's voice. Was Ryomen dead too?

 _Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud_

Only a few moments later did Shikadai realize that the thumping noise was the sound of his pounding heart and was coming distinctly from his chest.

 _If my heart is still beating...I must still be alive._

Shikadai slowly came to his senses, and looking around him, found himself on the ground in the clearing, with the sand-woman standing in front of him. Her arms were splayed out protectively and she stood directly before Shikadai like a shield. Next to her was a man made curiously out of—

"Gold?"

Again, Ryomen's voice rang out in the otherwise deathly silence, voicing the question that both he and Shikadai were thinking.

 _Sand...gold...the sound of breaking glass._

Trembling, Shikadai looked down beside him, and sure enough—there were the remnants of Uncle Gaara's hourglass, the chakra-infused grains inside of it having escaped their glass prison to rush to Shikadai's defense at the final moment.

Shikadai looked back up at the sand and gold figures in front of him. How come the sand and gold had separated themselves? To Shikadai, the bemusing question was unanswerable, and he didn't waste brainpower trying to figure it out at the moment.

Ryomen still clutched the handle of the kunai that was now buried deep within the bosom of Karura, immobilized.

"Urgh—" Ryomen grunted, as he tried, without avail, to liberate the kunai, pulling at its handle uselessly.

In due time, he gave up, slowly turning his attention to the figure of gold that stood next to Karura. Rasa stood with confidently with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The posture reminded Shikadai of Uncle Gaara.

Shikadai saw recognition dawn Ryomen's eyes.

"YOU!" Ryomen screamed, eyes so wide they could have popped out of their sockets. "You! You're—you're dead! You're supposed to be dead!"

 _How come Ryomen knows Rasa?_

Shikadai had no time to further contemplate this mind-boggling issue, for Ryomen had, while holding the bleeding stump of his left arm off to the side at an awkward angle, plunged his free into his robes, drawing out a shiny knife. With a battle cry, the crazed, dying man attempted to dive between the figures of Karura and Rasa and drive the knife into Shikadai's body and his life out of it.

Instinctually, Shikadai thrusted his arm over his own face in a poor attempt to shield himself.

To his surprise, in conjunction with Shikadai's rapid movement, the figure of Rasa made from Gold Dust shot its own arm out, dispersing into a tendril of gold that wrapped itself tightly around Ryomen's arm, the knife's journey pausing just above Shikadai's head.

"W-what?" Ryomen gasped, wincing as the Gold Dust continued wrapping around and travelling higher and higher up his arm. Gold-Rasa only seemed to squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Ahh—" Ryomen whimpered. Shikadai flinched, tensing all of his muscles and, subconsciously, closing his fist.

The world exploded.

Ryomen screamed—a sound like incomparable with any of the sounds he had made earlier that day. The scream ripping itself out from Ryomen's throat did not belong on Earth—it only belonged in hell.

At the same time, it started raining.

Shikadai brought a shaky hand to his black hair when he felt something warm and wet fall onto it all of a sudden. He didn't know what to expect was there, but it was certainly not the shiny brown slime that coated his hand.

 _What the...hell?_

Shikadai looked back up at Ryomen, jumping when he found that the man's eyes had rolled to the back of his head, that he was absolutely soaked in blood, and that— _both of his arms were missing._

 _And that one of them looked like they had been violently torn off—isn't that what he said happened to Tsunako...?_

Shikadai looked back at the thick substance on his hand.

Looks like he got a taste of human purée today.

Shikadai turned and retched.

It took Shikadai a good minute to empty his stomach, but with what was on his hands, he didn't dare wipe off his mouth. It left him feeling thoroughly disgusted, though that, in reality, that was really quite the understatement. He looked up with dazed eyes, only to see that Karura and Rasa, with their backs still facing him, were starting to disappear into violently swirling grains of sand and gold.

"No!" he cried, momentarily forgetting his repulsion. "Please, don't go!" he pleaded. "Don't leave me!"

He lunged at them just as they completely dispersed at into nothing more than shifting clouds of sand and gold, and his outstretched hands latched onto nothing. Shikadai fully expected himself to fall roughly onto the hard ground, but instead, landed face first in a gentle manner onto something soft that cushioned his entire body.

Shikadai lay there with his face buried in the sand for a long minute, feeling more abandoned and more afraid than he ever had in his life. When he finally mustered up the courage, he lifted his head and saw that Ryomen, too, was lying face first on the ground, though rather than a bed of sand, the man lay in a pool of blood, into which the stumps of his arms fed gushing streams.

Shikadai continued to lie on his stomach, holding his breath as he waited for Ryomen to crawl up again and scream curses at him and his uncle.

Instead, silence prevailed for a full minute.

Then, another minute.

And another.

And another.

Shikadai had never heard a sound as loud as silence before.

Another minute passed.

 _He's dead_ , Shikadai realized.

Shikadai had never seen the dead before, though he'd imagined that it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

 _He's dead_ , Shikadai repeated to himself. No, it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience.

"He's dead," Shikadai said out loud. Then something even less pleasant than seeing the dead crossed Shikadai's mind.

It was Shikadai himself who had turned this body from a living, breathing human into a cold corpse.

"He's dead!" Shikadai screamed. "I killed him!"

Reality came crashing down to him at that moment, and Shikadai looked frantically around the clearing to find his disposed teammates still lying there, the perfect witnesses for what had just gone down.

Shikadai tried to scramble backwards, tried to escape from his predicament, but the wound in his side that he'd been able to disregard for such a long time suddenly washed waves of agony over him, and he collapsed back onto soft sand.

The trees around the clearing appeared to be closing in on him, but he couldn't move. He could feel the souls of the dead clinging to his body, trying to pull him down, and he couldn't fight them off.

Shikadai tried to search the sky above him for some solace as he always had, but all he found were clouds that were trying to flee from him...

Darkness descended upon Shikadai's vision, and as everything began to fade away, the sound of tortured screams grew closer and closer.

He was entering a nightmare, but he wasn't about to sleep, because the insane didn't sleep. He knew that.

In a last-ditch effort to escape from his mind, escape from reality, escape from the dead that were clinging to his living body, Shikadai latched onto a fleeting thought and repeated it to himself like a prayer. It was the last thing he knew before everything was gone.

 _I'm never going to eat any kind of pureé again._

* * *

 **Holy shit! Tell me, was that as hard to read as it was to write?**

 **(1)** **I would never lie to you. This is one of the more disturbing truths of nature I learned from the Torture Museum in San Diego. *shivers***


	8. Chapter 7: Nightmarish Reality

**Author's Note: I originally wanted to write one monster chapter but realized that there was too much content for it not to be way too long. So I'm going to do two chapters instead of one. Here's the first one.**

 **If you've been reviewing this story, please keep doing so, and if you haven't, well, what the hell are you waiting for? LOL To be honest, though, I couldn't be happier with the direction things are going. You guys are the best! Keep me happy and I promise even better chapters in the future.**

 **All right. Here's where I go on a rant in explanation of one of the decisions I decided to make:**

 **OC's. To be frank, I don't like them. Sometimes, I hate them. So why did I write them in this story? 1) Because I needed them for the plot. 2) Because this takes place with the new Naruto generation and there aren't enough canon characters we know about as it is. 3) There are literally thousands of shinobi in just Konoha and Suna alone. If we only stuck to canon characters, there wouldn't be enough biological diversity!**

 **Don't worry, my OC's won't play a main part, and I'm trying to make them as interesting as possible.**

 **Enjoy this chapter, my loyal followers! No more hand-severing in this one—but who said you need hand-severing to make angsty chapters in the first place? :P**

 **Lady the Warrior: Sorry for updating a tad later than promised!**

 **Hey unnamed guest! Glad to see you alive! lol I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter. Let's see if this is enough drama for you, lol. More coming next chapter!**

Chapter 7—Nightmarish Reality

Konoha was a city of legend.

Really, it was. The founding of Konoha was a legendary tale of the world's two most legendary shinobi. The village was seated in all its grandeur on a majestic throne in the middle of lush green forests, the shining crown of the Fire Country, and was quite the legendary sight. It displayed with great pride and little humility the faces of its legendary Hokages on the legendary Hokage Mountain. It was the birthplace and home of many legendary clans and shinobi.

However, there was one aspect of Konoha that was more legend than any other: its gossip.

At the foot of Konoha's _legendary_ gates were two young, bored, and nonchalant male chunin at the guard post, and around them was proof of Konoha's flourishing population. Citizens buzzed with life and mostly, gossip.

"Hey there! What's the latest?" buzzed one civilian.

"Haven't you heard? The Five Kage Summit today—"

"Oh yes! Yes I did hear! The Five Kage was suddenly interrupted in the midway, wasn't it? By none other than the—"

"Kazekage! Am I right?"

Before long, a third voice joined in. "Oh my goodness! I hadn't heard about that at all! Tell me more!"

"Well from what I heard of the news, the Five Kage Summit was going along just fine when the Kazekage jumps up all of sudden and leaves!"

"You've gotta be kidding me! The Kazekage did that?"

"Yeah, crazy right? I barely believed it myself! But apparently, it's true!"

"Gosh, what could have possibly been important enough to interrupt the _Five Kage Summit_ , of all things?"

"I know right, I mean that's practically like the most important thing in the world already!"

"I don't know for sure, but I think I heard that he had to go assign some really important mission?"

"What could have been _that_ important..."

"No idea. I'm just curious to find out what that mission could have possibly been."

One of the shinobi guards on duty stretched and leaned back and propped his feet up on the table in front of him. "You know, even though we probably have the most boring jobs in the world for shinobi, at least we get to see all the action going on in Rumorville."

His colleague quirked an eyebrow at him. "You mean about the Five Kage Summit? You know, I'd heard about that earlier. I think it might actually be true..."

"Seriously? The Kazekage interrupting a meeting with four of the most powerful ninja in the world, including Lord Hokage himself? That seems a bit far-fetched, no?"

"Could be. But it's been goin' around that he actually _did_ do that. And I heard that the Tsuchikage was furious at being interrupted."

"Ha! Really? The Tsuchikage's that one chick, right?"

"Yup. Some people say they heard her cursing her way out of the Hokage Building."

"Whoa, that's some serious shit, man. What did Lord Hokage do?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm concerned. He's real good friends with the Kazekage, more so than with the other Kage."

"Still though...if I were the Kazekage, I wouldn't have...I mean he pretty much pissed off the leaders of all his allied countries..."

"Yeah, well, those other Kage don't scare him. The Kazekage's really powerful in his own right. One of the strongest. Maybe stronger than all of 'em, besides Lord Hokage, of course. And besides that, well, you know how he is...you've heard that Sabaku no Gaara is..."

"A total whack-job?"

The two chunin started chuckling at that, for neither could agree more. Their voices joined that of the symphony of discord that the many other bustling citizens of Konoha were producing.

And all at once, all the players of the cacophony melded in harmony of silence at the unexpected appearance of said whack-job in a swirl of sand.

Gasps were heard and people immediately started crowding out of the way of the crimson-themed Kazekage, who stood with a rigid, tense stance facing the outside of Konoha's gates. His sea-foam green eyes were nailed to one spot within the vast outlying forests outside of the village, and it seemed that to him, nothing more existed outside of that _one_ spot in his line of vision, as he paid no regard to the mass of people and the two guard shinobi he had just startled.

While Gaara eyed the unknown spectacle in the woods, he himself had become quite the spectacle among the Konoha crowd. The murmurs travelled quickly and most of those present had become aware of the Kazekage's presence; the man _did_ exude a certain aura, and despite his short and small stature, he was conspicuous among the crowd. A half-circle of sorts had formed around him, and Gaara stood alone in the center; the bustling crowd was careful not to pass the circle's invisible boundaries, not wanting to get too close to the Kazekage they were willing to call crazy and a nutcase, but just not in his face.

Unanswered inquiries as to _What the hell is the Kazekage doing here?_ passed around in undertones, and said man paid them no heed. A straggling spectator decided to follow Gaara's intense line of vision, and only then did a dissonant voice break from the hushed mumbling.

"Look!" she cried.

The thing that came flying from out of the trees was so perfectly aligned with Gaara's eyes that it produced the impression that he had summoned it himself with a stare alone.

The previously restrained crowd grew wilder and louder as the _thing_ became exponentially closer and larger. What could have been mistaken as a bird...was obviously not one. Bodies were pushed about, though none approached the five-foot radius half-circle around the Kazekage; in fact, they backed away from him if possible and the flying thing approaching all too quickly.

The two shinobi guards immediately got to their feet, ready to take any necessary action, though in their hearts both were feeling tentative.

No one present (except Gaara, of course) had known exactly what to expect of the current situation, but what they saw certainly was beyond their expectations.

A giant fan of iron soaring impeccably and swiftly through the air. As it came closer, an eccentrically sassy hairstyle of four spiky consecutive ponytails came into view. The sandy-blonde kunoichi who was easily recognizable to everyone was perched atop it. Most shocking were her proud features and sharp teal eyes twisted in a bare expression of anguish.

It became clear that she was not alone. Cradled gently yet securely in her arms was a child, pale and frail looking, with a distinctly black haired head.

The blood of Temari's child was smothered across her breast.

Temari usually wore plates of armor across her torso, but she had removed them in favor of pressing her son's heartbeat, however faint, against her chest. She had torn off fragments of her clothing to make a makeshift bandage for the child's injury. She gathered him a little closer, hoping that his unconscious and rapidly cooling body would somehow feel the warmth of his mother's body.

The shinobi guards watched, a little dumbfounded, as Temari leapt off her fan with practiced grace before reaching out and spinning it behind her back before it glided off and crashed on its own.

She spoke in urgent undertones with her little brother, the Kazekage, and only after a few moments were the guards awoken from the stupor.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said one, clearing his throat awkwardly. "It's common procedure for all shinobi arriving in Konoha to be examined and cleared before entering the village."

Two pairs of green eyes glared at him—one a pale sea-foam, the other teal. "You know who we are, you incompetent shit," Temari ground out. Of the Three Sand Siblings, Temari travelled between villages the most and was by far the most diplomatic, and was exceptionally understanding of security procedures such as these. Yet presently, she couldn't care less; in fact, she wanted to beat the crap out of those stupid guards who couldn't understand the gravity of her situation.

The shinobi guards stuttered and coughed, before the other spoke up. "Yes, Lady Temari, but as a security measure—"

"I've already cleared them. They are not under the influence of any henge or jutsu."

Both shinobi jumped at the sound of Gaara's voice. They cursed their fate for putting them in such an awkward, uncomfortable, and not to mention, scary situation. "We appreciate the effort, Lord Kazekage, but according to protocol you're not authorized to—"

The two present Sand Siblings were already ignoring them. "Shikadai's badly hurt. He needs to be brought to the hospital straight away. We don't have much time." Temari told Gaara, a hint of pleading in her tone.

"W-wait, is that Nara?" asked one of the guards, momentarily forgetting Temari's and Gaara's blunt rejection of security protocol in favor of interest over the boy in their arms.

But to the two Sand Siblings, nothing more existed outside of themselves and the wounded child. Gaara exchanged a terse nod with his sister before lightly brushing the fingers of one hand on her shoulder. Keeping the contact in place, he brought his other hand up to his chest and closed his eyes; within less than a second, he, his sister, and his nephew promptly burst into millions of grains of swirling sand and were there no more.

Moments later, the trio had an entirely new audience on which to perform their bewilderment-inducing parade of suddenly appearing out of thin air.

"We are in need of emergency medical assistance," Gaara said in a flat voice to the flabbergasted hospital receptionist, simultaneously calling away the grains of sand he'd used to teleport them.

"Ah—uh—"

Temari strode on her long legs to the desk and brought her hand down onto it before the trembling receptionist with a _bang_! "Bring us Sakura Haruno! _NOW_!"

Both Sand Siblings were equally desperate, but they clearly expressed that in different ways.

The poor receptionist didn't need to be told twice to follow her orders, and immediately paiged the requested woman.

Storming and a fiery voice could soon be heard down the hall. " _Now_ what is it? I'm really busy, you know, I can't just—"

A flurry of pink rounded the corner and Sakura stopped in her tracks at the sight of—"Temari! What—Lord Gaara!"

The pinkette fumbled in surprise awkwardness for a few moments. Had her visitor been Naruto, she would immediately have pummeled him, leaving her to heal an a bruise more serious than whatever petty injury he may have visited her for. But now, her earlier vigor had died out at the presence of Temari, her good but sometimes difficult and extremely unpredictable friend, and her brother, whom words could not describe.

Then she saw Temari's ruffled appearance and the pallid Shikadai who didn't look alive enough. Sakura Haruno disappeared to be replaced by Konoha's most skilled medic-nin who wouldn't let anybody die under her watch.

"We have to hurry," Sakura said, looking at the Nara genin; "Follow me."

* * *

The clearing was a graveyard for the unburied dead, and though they were still alive, they certainly weren't kicking, and Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou were caught between the dead and the living as they lay paralyzed and motionless, trapped in the final resting place of a man who had died a more bloody and excruciating death in their helpless presence. They had been the ones to hear his last words; the last to here his screams, pleas, and wishes, and they were the ones who had to lie silent as they were showered in the cursed rain of his blood and splattered body parts.

And now, to have to watch his unmoving, rotting body and to listen to the silence of his death for hours on end, bask in the lack of peace hovering over this resting place, was truly a terrifying thing.

They felt like conscious corpses in a morgue.

They were stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way to call for help...Konoha was not expecting them back until tomorrow, so their powerlessness and hopelessness in the unsettling circumstances was overwhelming.

And so, the sudden appearance of Temari, the mother of their other teammate, had been a startling and welcome reprieve that came with the relief of the knowledge that their undesirable situation was no longer unknown. They would be saved.

Nevertheless, Temari was no savior angel.

She had stormed into the clearing with her fan, slightly winded and alarm glistening in her slightly crazed eyes. Though she had laid a questioning gaze on the blood and gore that was Ryomen, she seemed as unfazed seeing it as she would a dead cockroach at her doorstep.

Inojin and Chouchou wondered, not for the first time, about their teammate's father's questionable taste in women.

Instead, she had let out a strangled cry at the sight of her only son soaking in a pool of said blood. Still unable to move, Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou could only watch in awe as the ferocious woman they knew examined Shikadai in an extremely gentle manner, then wildly wrenching her armor plates off her torso and tearing off a piece of her shirt, before carefully guiding her hands back down to the bleeding boy to wrap the gaping wound in his side.

Temari had scooped him up like a delicate artifact before hastening to return to Konoha with her precious cargo. From the corner of their eyes, Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou caught a glimpse of Shikadai and wondered why his closed eyes were framed with obsidian.

Temari hadn't even spared the three of them a glance since arriving in the clearing. She couldn't be blamed; she was not a poison specialist, and obviously there were more pressing matters to be taken care of. But it was asking a lot of someone to have a rescuer leave a haunting prison and away to safety without you in tow.

But as Temari prepared to take flight, she addressed them in her gruff voice. "Two Suna chunin will be here to retrieve you soon. It won't be long," she assured them, though her tone was pitiless and distracted. Then again, she did have more important things to worry about. Not sparing a second, she jumped onto her fan and disappeared.

He was a fifteen-year-old boy with perfectly straight and perfectly trimmed shoulder-length midnight blue hair that neatly framed his pale, pointed face perfectly. His eyes were long, narrow, and a lighter, electric shade of his hair. He was a puppeteer, but his face paint was limited to a few streaks of traditional purple on his cheeks. His garb was simple: a black shin-length shinobi pants and a black sweater over which he wore his Sunagakure flak jacket. He wore his forehead protector aroud his forehead. The scrolls he carried on his back contained his puppets, poisons, and antidotes, and he was an expert in using all of them. He was of moderate height, and his demeanor screamed maturity, calmness, and aptitude. He regularly wore a serious and contemplative expression, though he was a kind soul and was more affected by external events than he let on.

She was tall, and despite being a year younger than her teammate at fourteen years of age, she matched him in height. Her skin was slightly tan and her curly hair possessed a unique, shiny metallic color that looked like it had been spun from steel. She had wiry bangs that dangled over her forehead protector, and even that piece of metal that held her village's insignia shied in comparison with her shiny hair. The rest of her steel hair was collected in a messy bun on the back of her head that fanned out like a cactus flower with long petals. She had long lashes that framed two explosions that were her large, sharp, and fiery yellow-orange eyes. She wore a yellow top underneath her flak jacket, a light purple miniskirt, and forearm and shin protectors. Her every word and movement suggested one thing but implied something else; she was unpredictable.

Shinchi was the rock of their two-man squad that kept everything in place. Icho was the earthquake that shook everything in their path.

Despite all that, the two Sunagakure chunin were alike in many ways. Both were exceedingly intelligent, and their talent was so undeniable that they were considered two of the best chunins in Sunagakure. They were both headstrong and stubborn in every aspect, from their goals to opinions; he with deadly calm, she with screamed threats. Both were confident, fearless, and had been hardened through life experiences, although their notions of right and wrong, good and bad, were strong. Neither gave respect to those who didn't deserve it, and both of them thought little of power and authority; he exuded general dismissal while she, snide insults. Those who did deserve their respect, however, were never disappointed by their conduct. Most notably, however, were Shinchi and Icho's capability for absolute, unwavering loyalty at no matter what the costs.

They worked well together. Their movements synchronized. So well that people wondered if they were siblings, even though not an inch of either of them bore resemblance with the other. In Suna, after all, many people came into prominence together with their siblings.

Shinchi and Icho did love each other—they weren't afraid to admit it, either, though they weren't like lovers (nor did either of them want to be). Their camaraderie and bond were so strong they were almost like...twins.

Icho flounced—looking almost childish—into the clearing, before suddenly landing in a low, dangerous, and clearly _not_ childish crouch. A few steps behind her, Shinchi walked composedly into view.

Icho's fiery eyes immediately landed on the clearing's most conspicuous sight: Ryomen's corpse.

She, like Temari, didn't even bat an eye, leaving the three still paralyzed Konoha ninja on the ground to seriously wonder about ninja from Suna. Instead, Icho threw back her bangs and snorted.

"Rescue mission? Hmph!" She turned to her teammate Shinchi, who was sporting an unimpressed face. "We may be good, but saving _this_ guy may be a little out of our league..."

She walked up to Ryomen, who was lying face down in the red-brown dirt, looking down at him with disdain. Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou wondered what Icho was doing for the few moments before she roughly kicked the body.

"Don't mess with the evidence on the scene, Icho," Shinchi said simply, before walking past his frenzied teammate and kneeling down next to Chouchou—to whom he happened to be closest. Unperturbed, he began examining her condition, testing her temperature and pulse.

Once upon a time, Suna's Puppet Corps had been hell-bent on nothing but destruction. However, since the incident where Sakura Haruno of Konoha had miraculously saved a dying Lord Kankuro during the time Lord Gaara was abducted, the Puppet Corps had made it a requirement for all of its members to learn how to identify and treat poisons, and not only to create and use them. Nowadays, the corps was like a medical sub-division.

" _They're_ the ones we need to save?" Icho complained loudly, looking at the immobilized Konoha ninja, having grown bored of the cold corpse. "Sheesh, what's about them that needs saving?"

Shinchi ignored and within seconds, Shinchi seemed to have come to a conclusion. "The enemy used a basic paralytic poison," he announced. He reached into his sweater and pulled out a syringe of antidote.

It appeared as if he would plunge the needle mercilessly into her body, but Chouchou was surprised when he whispered, "This will hurt," too softly for his teammate to hear (for she would surely make fun of him), and with careful precision, injected the antidote into her arm.

It only took a few minutes before Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou were all awakening their dead muscles and stretching their sore limbs. They mumbled their thanks, still shaken up from the day's earlier events and feeling a bit awkward.

"Ha! It's too bad this guy isn't the one we have to 'rescue'! Imagine the reaction if we towed this bloody mess back to Konoha! I heard those Leaf people were a bunch softies!"

"Icho, you know we're not authorized to remove the body from the scene. We weren't given the orders to do so, and someone may still want to come out here to investigate."

Shinchi turned to the three Konoha ninja who were listening with bewilderment. They were still stiff and wobbly, but had gained back most of their motor functions, and despite the peculiarity of the circumstances, they really were glad that a Suna poison expert with knowledge on how to counteract the paralytic poison had been among the team that'd come to rescue them.

Mirai stood and bowed her thanks. "Thank you so much for helping us," she said. "We are in debt to you. I'm Mirai Sarutobi, and these two are Inojin Yamanaka and Chouchou Akimichi, members of Konoha's Ino-Shika-Chou team."

"Anything for our allies in Konoha," Shinchi returned politely, while Icho snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Lady Temari of the Sand—I'm sure you know her—already retrieved the third member of the team—Shikadai Nara. He was in...lesser condition than us." She pursed her lips and did not continue.

Inojin attempted to muster up his disarming smile, but so much was on his mind that it was visibly forced. Only a few hours ago, he and his team had been attacked by what appeared to a group of Suna ninja. Now they were being rescued by them, and all this was really too much to intake.

Chouchou was eating a bag of chips. She always seemed able to procure one, no matter where she was.

Both Suna chunin seemed to have sobered at the mention of the missing member of the group. They were not oblivious to the fact of who he was.

"Let's not wait around," Icho huffed. "We need to get you guys back home."

None of the Konoha ninja wanted to wait around anyway. They just wanted to get away from that hellhole of a clearing.

"Are you all right with walking? Do you need any assistance?" Shinchi inquired earnestly. "You've been under the effects of the poison for a long time."

"I do!" Chouchou claimed, scuttling forward and latching unabashedly onto Shinchi's arm. Even in her situation, Chouchou would not let up the opportunity to harass cute boys.

Shinchi didn't show it, but inwardly he felt amused.

Mirai, a chunin, was stronger and a bit more resilient, and insisted that she was fine on her own. Besides, she felt a little blow to her pride at the sight of these undoubtedly strong foreign chunin who were also clearly younger than her.

Inojin tried to take a few steps on his own but stumbled, though he looked up from where he had fallen on the ground and with his fake smile announced, "I'm okay!" Icho rolled her eyes and walked over to the Yamanaka boy, extending a helping hand.

Inojin tried to not to feel intimidated by the scary female and had no choice but to accept her assistance. She steadied him on his feet and supported his traitorously weak body as they walked. Surprisingly, she made no sarcastic quips.

By the time they'd trekked back to Konoha, night had fallen. The trip back had been uneventful and mostly silent. Mirai, Inojin, and Chouchou found themselves that they were easily being haunted by their thoughts about what had gone down earlier...and about Shikadai.

They knew Shikadai was hurt. But they were thinking other things about him that weren't just about whether or not he was okay now.

When she was sure Shinchi and Icho wouldn't notice, Mirai would glance behind her to make sure that they weren't being followed, that a bloody ghost with both his arms torn off was not tracing their steps back to Konoha. Unlike the others, Mirai had _known_ Ryomen. At least, she thought she knew him.

Inojin had removed himself of Icho's support and walked on his own as soon as he had felt normal enough. Chouchou clung to Shinchi the whole way.

Upon returning home from their hellish nightmare, the three Konoha shinobi felt that the grand gates of their village had never looked so beautiful before.

Even better was that despite the time of night, quite a crowd had made itself present to welcome them home with open arms. Since Temari had gone to and arrived from the clearing from which they had been rescued, the plight they'd suffered was not unknown (though the circumstances were still unclear) and it was comfort to know, after those many hours of uncertainty, that they were not alone. Additionally, one was a Sarutobi and the other two were the Ino-Chou of the current Ino-Shika-Chou squad; it shouldn't have been a surprise that all of Konoha 12, plus their husbands or wives, were there to await them and confirm their safety. The Kazekage was there too, since technically, he was the one who had assigned this retrieval mission in the first place. Sakura was still at the hospital, while who knew where Sasuke was.

"Chouchou!" Chouji cried out, running forward. He'd been worried sick for hours. His little girl's first mission out of the village and something bad had happened!

The sight of her parents was too much to bear and all thoughts of cute boys and Shinchi left Chouchou's mind. She unlatched herself from the male Suna chunin and rushed into the arms of her father, sobbing.

The Akimichi family was openly affectionate, and the reunion of rescued daughter and distraught parents was loud and tear-filled. Chouji enveloped his daughter in a bone-crushing hug that only another big-boned Akimichi like Chouchou herself would be able to endure without bodily harm.

Cool, proud, and snarky Karui broke down in tears and, all ettiquette forgotten, flung her arms around Gaara, who had been standing near her with his arms crossed. He didn't move, but his eyes doubled in size at being hugged. Such an event was rare, after all.

Karui was sobbing quite incoherently. "T-thank you...Gaa-ara! Our Chouchou—I d-don't know what I would have—d-done—in a t-time of p-peace I never thought something like this would have—oh—I was s-s-so worried—thank you—for saving them—saving her!" Had she been thinking clearly, Karui may have been mortified by her actions and show of weakness, but the only thing on her mind now was that her daughter was back home and _it was the Kazekage who had saved her._

Granted, none of the three Konoha ninja who had just come home had been in real danger, since the target of assassination was Shikadai. Still, anything could happen if you were lying helpless in the middle of the wilderness far away from home and help. Besides, the unexpected had happened more than enough times already today. Team Ino-Shika-Chou and Mirai had not been expected to run into the slightest of troubles, and Lord Kazekage hadn't been expected to be the one to save them.

"What a youthful and happy reunion this is proving to be!" Rock Lee cried.

Kiba wrinkled his nose because the homecoming shinobi reeked of dead body, but decided, for once, to keep his mouth shut, because this was hardly the appropriate time to speak of such things.

Beside them, Kurenai and Mirai embraced in a long, long hug, an intimate moment between mother and daughter.

Inojin was currently struggling to breathe as his mother Ino relentlessly squeezed the life the life out of him. The stoic Sai couldn't help from reaching to run his fingers through his son's hair just to make sure that he was real. However, he stole glances at Karui, who was still all over a frozen Gaara, and wondered about how worry, tragedy, and circumstance could change human behavior.

Just two days ago, Sabaku no Gaara had visited the Yamanka Flower Shop with his nephew, Shikadai Nara. Shikadai was a regular but Gaara was an awkward guest about whom the Yamanakas were suspicious and wary. Now, Gaara was the savior of their son. And now Shikadai...

"Your mission was a success. Congratulations." Gaara addressed his shinobi. The socially awkward man didn't know what to do about the Kumo woman clinging to his neck like a lifeline; he didn't feel as if he should be thanked for doing the right thing; besides, Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai were Shikadai's friends, and that was enough of a reason to care about their well-being, so he just ignored Karui. Karui seemed to 'wake up' once Gaara began to speak, so she turned her attentions back to her husband and child. Shinchi and Icho stood to attention. "You did a good job responding so quickly. I had doubts you'd make it back here in the same night, but I stand corrected. You may stay in Konoha for a few days if you like; I will cover the expenses of your accommodation. Your salary will not be detracted."

"Thank you, Lord Kazeka-"

"No," Naruto interrupted firmly. "The two of you did Konoha a great favor by bringing Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai home. If it were up to us we never would have been able to do it so quickly, and-" Naruto's expression darkened a bit-

"who knows what could have happened by then...the least we can do is give you some well-deserved Konoha hospitality!"

Hinata held her husband's hand and smiled at his kindness and generosity.

The Hokage flashed the two Suna chunins a thumbs-up. "Consider it a paid-off vacation in the Land of the Leaf where you can do whatever you want without getting in trouble with your Kazekage Gaara!" Naruto tried to poke Gaara but failed when sand attempted to devour his finger.

"Really?" Icho asked with a feral grin. Naruto immediately regretted having opened his mouth in the first place.

"No," Shinchi answered for Icho smoothly, without missing a beat.

Icho dropped her smile and spontaneously changed the topic of conversation to a subject that was circulating in the back of everybody's minds.

"So, how is Shikadai Nara?"

Konoha nights were never too cold, but the air dropped by twenty degrees right then.

It was the subject the Konoha nins had been beating around the bush to talk about, but Suna nins never beat around the bush.

All eyes went to Shikamaru and Temari, who hadn't yet spoken a word.

Under normal circumstances, the couple would have welcomed Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai home with the same fervor the others were displaying, but today, there was obviously something more pressing probing their minds.

It had been quite a day for Shikamaru, really. A Five Kage Summit was never something to be taken lightly in the first pace, but right in the middle of it his brother-in-law had done perhaps the singular most bizarre thing he'd ever done (not counting when he was still a psychopath, of course)-stormed out of the meeting without so much as an explanation! Then Shikamaru had gone home only to find his house deserted, his wife and her iron fan no where to be seen. He'd rushed to the Hokage office to find Naruto and Gaara deep in discussion, and had nearly hyperventilated and run around like a mad dog when he found out what had happened. Yeah, very uncharateristic. And not a good day at all.

"Alive," Temari answered, equally straightforward. "We got to the hospital in time for the medics to patch him up, but he hasn't regained consciouness since coming back. They say his chakra was completely depleted, and it's keeping his body from healing properly." Mirai, Chouchou, and Inojin shared a look that Gaara and Naruto didn't miss. "They've done some medical ninjutsu on him. With the way things are going he should be...fine, but it his wounds open and he loses more blood, he'll need a blood transfusion."

No one knew what to say for a long time.

* * *

The world was a dark void with nothing in it. Save for a few sounds.

One was the sound of sharp blade whizzing repeatedly through the air. As if someone were holding a kunai and slashing it back and forth.

Another was the disgusting _squelch_ of flesh being torn open, again, and again, and again.

There were the screams of two people permeating the air. One of the screams was an incarnation of agony. The other was the incarnation of ecstasy.

The boy's eyes were closed. He assumed that was why he couldn't see anything but pitch black, so he decided to open them. Just when he was about to though—

"Stop, Shikadai Nara!" It was the voice of the ecstatic screamer. All the other sounds continued unabated. "Don't open your eyes yet; I still have something to show you!"

The voice sounded familiar. "Don't I have to _open_ my eyes to see whatever it is you have to show me?" the boy drawled. "And who's Shikadai?"

"I am," the voice replied. "And no, this is the only place where we'll be safe, because we're the only ones who have the power here. Once you open your eyes you won't be able to see anyone you can trust."

 _This guy's insane_ , the boy thought. But he didn't feel any dislike toward whoever this was, so he went along.

"All right, uh...lead the way?" the boy said.

The guy named Shikadai chuckled in return. "Come on."

The sound of Shikadai's footsteps echoed through the air, and despite being unable to see anything, the boy found it quite easy to follow. He noticed, however, that the three other sounds he'd heard earlier, including the screaming, were increasing in volume, as if getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, the cacophany stopped, followed by a _thump_ , as if something had fallen on the floor, and a _clang!_

"Okay, we're here," Shikadai said.

The boy opened his mouth to ask _Can I open my eyes yet_ , but the moment he did so, a warm, metallic fluid gushed into his mouth, choking and gagging him.

And suddenly, despite having not yet opened his eyes, his vision was invaded with the sight of ocean blue eyes.

 _Hollow_ ocean blue eyes. _Dead_.

The boy opened his mouth and the blood poured out of it. He didn't feel any pain, so the only explanation was that the blood belonged to the ocean blue eyes. He prepared to scream, but the guy named Shikadai beat him to it, continuing his ecstatic screaming from before, although this time, it was accompanied by no other sounds. Just silence. That made it all the more chilling.

" _Where are we_?" the boy pleaded.

"Inside your head," Shikadai answered.

The boy's eyes flew open. If that hell was inside his head then all he had to do was wake up to get out of it.

He found himself surrounded by white. He was inside a white room, with white walls and a white floor. He himself was sitting upright on a bed, which was also white. It felt too clean.

"No! Don't go out there!"

It was Shikadai! _How come I can still hear his voice? Where is he?_

"You can't trust anybody out there!" Shikadai pleaded. "It's not like in here! You don't have any power out there! I don't want to see you get hurt...Come on, I'm your friend, you can trust me! We can have lots of fun together!"

" _Fun_?! Fuck off!" the boy screamed, scrambling out of the white covers of his bed and blindly running-where to? Just _away_ from— _everything_.

He didn't know how far he had run, but he suddenly collided with a pane of glass. He'd thought the hallway was twice as long than it actually was, not realizing that he'd actually run into a floor-length mirror! There was person in it, he noticed, although he couldn't recognize this person. He looked vaguely familiar, but...

"Who are you?" the boy asked in a whisper.

The boy in the mirror had tousled black hair and rings around his teal eyes. "I'm Shikadai," the reflection whispered back.

 _No. No! NO!_

He turned and tried to flee from the mirror, hearing the smashing of glass behind him. _The mirror must have broken somehow_ , he thought, not noticing the trail of glass-littered gold streaming behind him.

He fell to his knees, feeling his energy feeling being sucked out of him. He collided harshly with a door in the wall.

He lay panting on the cold white floor with his back against the hard wall. His vision started growing darker.

 _No!_

The white of the walls slowly melded into the dark shade of the night, and a scream ripped from his throat in protest.

 _The insane...aren't supposed to sleep..._

* * *

It was early morning of the next day. Shikamaru, Temari, Ino, Sai, Chouji, Karui, and Kurenai were all sitting tensely in the waiting room of the hospital. The children of all three couples and Kurenai had been admitted overnight into the hospital. Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai were there just to be examined. The Konoha medics wanted to ensure that the poison they'd ingested had no other side effects besides paralysis, and that they had no other bodily harm.

Hinata and the Hokage was there, too, if only to provide some support for the worried parents of the shinobi. Granted, he'd have to be leaving soon with Shikamaru, though he worried how the man was going to be able to concentrate today. Under normal circumstances, Naruto would definitely have given the poor lazy man a day off, but there was Five Kage Summit still going on. And with the way things had gone down yesterday...well...

It was safe to say that these few days had been anything but normal.

Naruto was frustrated, because while he understood Gaara's reasons, he was still pissed off at his Suna friend for pulling off a stunt like that at the Summit so brusquely. And people called Naruto rude! Naruto doubted that he would have been able to pull it off. Unlike Gaara, no one ever seemed to take him seriously! Hmph!

"Naruto?" Naruto heard his wife's soft voice calling him.

The Hokage grew red in the face when he realized eight pairs of curious eyes upon him as he paced around the room, tossing his arms through the air making and making funny expressions. He must have got a bit carried away in thought...

"Uh..." Naruto tried to make up an excuse.

He was saved when the waiting room door opened to reveal a smiling Sakura escorting a renewed and refreshed Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai into the room. They'd even changed from their hospital garb back into their own clothing already.

Sakura closed the door behind her and beamed at the waiting room's occupants. "All right, Moms and Dads; they've been cleared and had a good night's rest. They're ready to go home now. Take it easy for a few days, got it?" She turned to Naruto, hands on hips. "Don't be an idiot and assign them on any missions anytime soon, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the mighty Hokage squeaked.

Inojin and Chouchou glanced at the parents of their teammate. Temari gave them a small, sullen smile that only made her seem even more dejected, and Shikamaru didn't even look up.

 _Thump thump thump thump thump_

"What was that?" Kurenai asked aloud.

Sakura frowned. "There wasn't anyone in the hallway just now. Sounded like someone running out there." She fumed. "People aren't supposed to run in here! This is a hospital! Do they never listen?"

The waited in the waiting room for a few moments, listening for any additional disturbances in the hallway outside. When silence prevailed, Sakura gave a shrug and made a movement to open the door to investigate.

 _CRASHHHHHH_

It was the sound of shattering and splintering glass. And it sounded like a _lot_ of glass.

 _THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_

They all jumped and gasped. The running footsteps drew nearer. Inojin retreated into the corner where Sai was standing, and Chouchou clung onto Karui. Mirai and Kurenai tightly held hands. Sakura whipped her head around in alarm; Hinata clasped her hands together in worry. Naruto tensed, and Shikamaru and Temari jumped to their feet.

 _SLAMMMMM_

Something crashed violently onto the waiting room door, visibly shaking its hinges. The door continued to shake and the sound of thrashing could be heard and suddenly, an agonizing, long howl pierced the air, before the sounds went dead.

"W-what was that?" Hinata whispered.

They waited a few more moments. "It stopped..." Sakura exhaled. She was about to open the door to investigate once again, when Temari's low voice interrupted her.

"No, it didn't."

She pointed. They looked.

A pool of blood flooded through the gap underneath the door into the room.

Yelling and more running could be heard from outside, before Sakura could hear them halt abruptly. Then a voice she recognized as one of the nurse's screamed.

"Sakura! My lady! Please come immediately!"

Everyone was knocked out of their reverie and sprang to action. Sakura yanked the door open, and since the door swung inwardly into the waiting room, the body slumped against the door fell in a heap into the room and onto his own blood.

"Shikadai!" Shikamaru yelled.

"Holy shit!" Naruto exclaimed.

"Oh no!" Sakura cried. She got to her knees and examined the boy. "His wounds have opened up again, and they're bleeding profusely!" Her hands emitted a green glow as she tried to close them again. "His chakra and strength are so depleted that his blood isn't even clotting on its own!"

"Shikadai...!" Shikamaru moaned, his face falling into his hands. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward and help his son, but the rational part of his mind knew that Sakura was the only one who had that power. Temari gritted her teeth and tried to console him, but it was of little help; she was equally distraught.

The nurse who had screamed earlier had rushed up to the scene. "Lady Sakura!" she exclaimed, slightly winded.

"What the HELL happened?" Sakura demanded.

"I'm not entirely sure, my lady! I was checking on the other patients when I suddenly hear running in the hallways. I was going to check on what it was when I passed by Nara's room and saw it was empty! Then I come out here and here he is, lying in a pool of his own blood!"

"He got up unassisted?" Sakura exclaimed in disbelief. "How is that even possible?"

Everyone else in the room exchanged extremely worried and alarmed looks.

"I don't know, my lady!"

"His wounds reopened because of exertion and excessive movements, sure enough." Sakura mumbled her diagnosis, before continuing in a louder, baffled voice. "What in the _world_ was he _doing_? I administered a sedative _myself_ last night! I wanted to make sure he slept without disturbance and that his heart rate remained in control, and the earliest _possible_ time he could have woken up was at least a few hours later! There must be something wrong with his chakra networks..." She ground her teeth in frustration. "Shit! He's losing too much blood! Even my medical ninjutsu isn't fast enough to keep the blood flow in check; not when his body's not healing or functioning properly on its own." She stood up. "I need to get him to his room. Reiki—" Sakura turned to the frantic nurse—"he needs a blood transfusion. He's type A (1), now hurry, hurry!"

At a speed that rivaled Rock Lee's, Shikamaru had rushed forward and scooped his boy gingerly up gingerly into his arms, ready to deliver him to help and safety. Even Naruto blinked in surprise at Shikamaru's display, although Temari, equally anxious, paid no mind.

Their party hurried through the hallways to Shikadai's hospital room, with Sakura, Shikamaru, and Temari in the front and the others trailing behind. They gained alarmed looks and even yelps from hospital staff and patients alike. It was no surprise; they were staining the ground with bloody footprints, and their Hokage adviser looked like he was carrying evidence from a murder scene.

Naruto, on the other hand, held back at the end of their running party. He was more observant than given credit for; despite everything, he _was_ the Hokage, after all.

He turned to look at the broken mirror at the end of the hallway that everyone else, in their frenzy, seemed to have forgotten about. It wasn't just broken—it was _smashed_ —and the millions of glass shards littered the ground, reflecting off on another chaotically. There had to have been a lot of force in the blow that had demolished the mirror, considering how utterly destroyed it was and how far the shards had flown.

Naruto turned back to look at the unconscious son of his assistant. He should have some glass debris on his person, or some cuts from the shattered mirror. But Shikadai was blooding profusely of old wounds, and other than that—

There wasn't a single mark on the boy.

Sakura pushed open the door to Shikadai's room with a _bang!_ , not caring about making disturbances any longer.

"Quick—put him down..."

Shikamaru obeyed and laid Shikadai down on the bed, observing his distressed expression and incoherent mumbling.

"Nightmares...?" he wondered aloud.

Kurenai watched the man who was once a student of her lover, and her heart broke at his dilemma.

Reiki, the nurse, came hustling into the room rolling a medical stand behind her. Chouchou and Inojin, who, along with their parents, had been caught up in the entire affair, blanched at bags of blood hanging on the stand. They turned back to look at their teammate, who, despite everything, was still their best friend.

Chouchou shuffled to Inojin's side nervously. "Why does Shikadai look so weird?" she asked.

Inojin frowned at her question. It was true. His closed eyelids were significantly darker than the rest of his pale, flushed skin. Inojin could only guess that it was a side effect of the conditions he was suffering.

The medics got to work. Without hesitation, Sakura wetted a cotton swab with iodine and rubbed it along Shikadai's arm in order to get a clean patch of skin. With trembling fingers, Reiki prepared the IV drip, then steadied herself, and with slow, careful precision, directed the needle to Shikadai's arm in order to feed much-needed blood through his veins, and the sharp point was millimeters away from penetrating skin—

"Ah!"

 _SLAM_

Without preamble, a wave of gold with no evident spring or source materialized and surged from between the nurse and Shikadai—or, more specifically, between offending needle and skin.

Teal eyes snapped open.

Reiki was no more than a rag doll that was flung into the air—soaring through the room and nearly hitting the ceiling—before landing with a _CRASH_ against the wall on the other side of the room, sending more than one object in the room into disarray. She was in too much shock to cry out, and she slid down the wall in too much pain to move—it wouldn't be surprising if her back were now painted with a black bruise. Her chest visibly heaved, and her eyelids flutter open and close, as if she were rapidly slipping in and out of consciousness.

Attention was garnered away from the unfortunate woman, however—the Yamanakas, Akimichis, Sarutobis, Uzumakis, Naras, and Uchiha present in the room all turned to look at the person on the bed, and found him, despite all odds, sitting on the bed. Very much awake.

But they didn't find Shikadai Nara. He looked to be long gone. Shikamaru gasped, not out of fear, but of horror—because of the boy on the bed bore resemblance to his son in looks but in nor in any other way. He could tell it was Shikadai, but he couldn't recognize this boy.

Temari watched with equal horror at the boy that had replaced her son—and unlike her husband, it was not because she didn't recognize him, but because she _did_ —and he looked like one of her buried memories from the past.

Ice froze over the room when teal eyes swept over its occupants. Chouchou squeaked, but Inojin clapped a hand over her mouth, silently commanding her to _stay quiet_! The two teammates of Shikadai's looked on in dread as those eyes seemed to bear them no recognition.

Shikadai didn't acknowledge any one of them at all—not even his parents. In fact, his eyes seemed to be seeing, but unseeing. Instead, after a cursory glance around the room, his eyes locked onto the form of the nurse who'd been thrown across the room.

He made a movement as if to get up, but instantly winced at the pain that shot through his side and clutched his wound with his hand. He looked down to find himself wearing a blue hospital gown.

Or, rather, what _used_ to be a blue hospital gown. He brought his hand away from his injury and found it stained with the same crimson as his garments.

"Blood..." he stated. "It's...my blood..."

The information seemed to settle in and suddenly teal eyes snapped back up, the pain as the boy's vision was blinded by a haze of rage.

"You," he snarled at the nurse, whose eyes fluttered open only to widen in genuine fear at the animosity being directed toward her.

Barely had anyone the time to blink before Shikadai had leapt off the bed with a speed totally inappropriate for someone who should have been lying unconscious on the bed bleeding his life out.

"Reiki! Shikadai!" Sakura frantically called out to deaf ears, sprinting forward to attempt to defuse the situation that had gotten out of hand _exponentially_ right before her eyes. She was torn between who to help—her medic or her patient—but she didn't have the chance to make the decision, because she had only been running in their general direction before a random wave of gold again surged from nowhere to keep her at bay, throwing her back. Sakura was surprised, but with her shinobi instincts, she was able to flip midair and land firmly on her feet.

Shikadai slammed Reiki into the wall, a bloodstained hand curling around her throat. Unlike Sakura, the nurse was a medic but not a ninja, and she sputtered and coughed in his grip, gasping for precious air.

She looked up into a teal pupils dilated with hate with a look of animalistic viciousness and hunger clouded over them.

"You did this, _didn't you_?! It was you, wasn't it?" Shikadai growled.

"N-no, I-I-I d-did-dn't—"

Shikadai looked back down at himself, then back at the nurse. "All this blood..."

His hand tightened.

"What did I ever do to all of you?" he wailed, his voice climbing towards hysteria. "Why do you seek my blood so badly, so badly?"

"A-a-ah, p-please—"

Reiki's face was turning blue from lack of air. Her thrashing diminished as her energy and will were squeezed out of her by the bloody hand strangling her at the neck.

"Shikadai!" someone called out, but again it fell on unhearing ears, and Shikadai's surroundings fell on unseeing eyes. For him, the only things that existed were his crimson-painted world and the offending creature in front of him—Reiki. No one knew what to do.

"This blood is cursed," Shikadai muttered. "It runs through the branches of our family tree and every drop of it is _cursed_!"

The nature of those words was reminiscent to Temari—very much like something her little brother would say lifetimes ago.

"He was right," Shikadai continued, dropping his head and fisting his black hair with his free hand while the rest of his body trembled violently. "He was right—I can't trust anybody out here. All of them want my blood. None of them are my—friends...he's the only one..."

Chouchou's chocolate cheeks were colored with a sickly shade, and Inojin was turning paler than thought possible.

Reiki gasped once again, and through her darkening, parched lips, she managed to muster a few words. "P-please—M-Mr. Nara, we're i-in t-the hospit-tal and I-I'm just the n-n-nurse. You m-misunderst-tand—I-I was j-just t-t-trying to help y-you."

Teal eyes continued to stare unblinkingly at her.

"I-I d-didn't have a-any bad intentions..."

Breath hitched. It was the wrong thing to say.

Without relaxing his grip on Reiki's neck, Shikadai suddenly grew very, very still. His voice was dangerous and low. "The last time...someone said that to me..."

A maniac grin broke out on his face. " _We had lots of fun together_."

Reiki looked up into the eyes of what could only be a monster. It was like a scene in a movie—being strangled to death in a hospital with a demented, crimson-stained patient. Her captor's small stature was made up for from the arms of gold were swaying threateningly behind him.

"Let's see if you can scream as loudly as he did—let's see if your blood is as sweet as his was..."

No one was oblivious to Shikadai's use of the past tense in referring to "he"...

The boy fumbled around his waist, looking for an appropriate weapon, before remembering that he was in hospital garb and that his belt wasn't on him. He inspected his fingernails and seemed to deem them an appropriate replacement, raising a clawed hand and preparing to leave trails of open, vermilion flesh on Reiki's pale neck.

When all of sudden, a band of sand wrapped around his body and pulled him away.

"W-what?" he yelled, thrashing. "Who—"

He turned and immediately met a pair of pale, sea-foam green eyes gazing calmly into his.

The haze of rage was replaced with a moment of confusion in Shikadai's eyes, before he called out, experimentally, tentatively, in a small voice—"Uncle Gaara?"

A head of blood-colored hair nodded at him.

Shikadai's previous mania seemed to have all but disappeared, and without its fuel to keep him running, he slumped forward, collapsing in exhaustion.

His uncle caught him, supporting him in his arms and with his sand.

Reiki choked on the sudden rush of air that relieved her burning lungs, and promptly fell unconscious against the wall.

The scene was greeted with gaping mouths and incredulous eyes.

"Gaara!?" Temari finally cried out at her little brother.

The Kazekage appeared unaffected by the shock that had gripped and afflicted everyone else in the room. A tendril of sand snaked out from his gourd and righted the knocked-over, but otherwise miraculously untouched, medical stand from a corner of the hospital room, the blood bag and IV needle still hanging from it intact.

"Allow me to continue with the procedure."

Stunned silence followed Gaara's announcement, before Sakura's fieriness was ignited again. " _What_? You want to—"

Gaara gestured with his head at the blood bag. "I'll do it," he said flatly, "but I require privacy."

Sakura fumbled for words for a moment in her astonishment, before crying out, "I understand your concern, Lord Gaara, but we medics are the only ones who can—"

"There's no other way."

"No, this is the only way!" Sakura stomped her foot, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to. "I'll do it myself but I can't let you—you're not a medic! It won't take long, and blood transfusion is a simple procedure—"

"You said it yourself. It's a simple procedure. I'll do it."

Arguing with Gaara was infuriating, but Sakura was an adamant one. "I appreciate your efforts and intentions, but I'm sorry. Only a medic— _such as myself_ —is authorized to do this. It's simple but you still need basic medical knowledge—the needle has to be inserted along a vein—"

"I believe I am more knowledgeable in this field than you give me credit for, Mrs. Uchiha. I studied the human circulatory system vastly in the past in order to find out what body parts were the most effective in raining copious amounts of blood when I crushed them."

Gaara was nothing if not straightforward.

Inojin and Chouchou both turned a sickly shade of green,

Sakura slammed her fist against the wall. "With all due respect, Lord Gaara, there are children in this room!"

Gaara's eyes flicked towards Inojin and Chouchou before returning to Sakura's. "You're right. And one of them is dying." He looked down at his nephew.

Naruto finally decided it was his turn to step in. Things were serious, and he could tell. Of course, things were always serious when it came to his friend Gaara, but this was an extreme case.

"Hinata," the Hokage said, "just for precaution, why don't you show Gaara at what points along Shikadai's arm he can insert the needle? You know, just to make sure that he does it correctly?" Naruto looked at Gaara and they shared a look.

"All right," Hinata replied. "Byakugan!"

She stepped forward and began pointing out the veins and capillaries along Shikadai's arm to the Kazekage, instructing him on which places were safe for the IV needle. Gaara nodded his understanding, using a few grains of sand to mark the areas of skin Hinata had pointed out to him.

As Gaara prepared to leave, Sakura, who had been too shocked at the turn of events and Naruto's outright dismissal of her to speak up to this point, stepped forward, and in a defeated voice, said, "Lord Gaara. Please take this with you." She handed him a bottle and few cotton swabs. "Clean his skin with iodine before you insert the needle.

Gaara took said items and, together with his nephew, teleported himself away.

"Hinata," Naruto whispered to his wife. "Did you see anything?"

The Hyuga woman nodded at her husband. "Yes. His chakra network looks different than before; if I'm not mistaken, it seems to have expanded. He was totally out of chakra but there were short bursts of it periodically, kind of like...electrical sparks."

She paused. "It looked like the awakening of a...kekkai genkai..."

At the other end of the hospital, a swirl of sand suddenly materialized in the middle of an empty room before a red-haired appeared in the midst of it. Gaara took a cursory look around, before becoming baffled with the sudden realization that this was _that same hospital room_.

The one he'd brought a newborn Shikadai to meet his grandparents.

Perhaps this room has some sort of spiritual connection, Gaara mused, setting Shikadai down on the bed.

As instructed by Sakura, he cleaned a portion of his nephew's arm with a swab of iodine, before he picked up the IV needle on the medical stand.

He tapped into his own Magnet Release to keep the Gold Dust at bay, and experimentally, brought the needle forward.

A small patch of gold rose up in between Shikadai's skin and the needle's sharp point.

"Automatic defense..." Gaara breathed.

He observed the rings that surrounded his nephew's eyes. Magnet Release.

Wasn't it in this very room that Rasa had imparted to Shikadai this very kekkai genkai?

Something was still odd, though. Rings were only supposed to appear around the eyes when when the Magnet Release was activated. And right now, Shikadai was obviously out cold.

There was only one person in the world who had an activated kekkai genkai at all times—Gaara himself. Because of his automatic sand defense that existed without his own will or control, the characteristic Magnet Release rings were in constant effect and permanent. Now Shikadai...

He looked up the ceiling, calmly regarding it with his pale eyes.

"I'm not trying to hurt him," he said. "Mother and Father—I know you're trying to keep him safe. But without a blood transfusion...

"He might _die_."

Silence greeted Gaara's little speech and the Kazekage wondered if talking to his dead parents in an empty hospital room made him even more insane than he was already.

Nevertheless, he held tightly to the end of the needle and carefully, probed his nephew's skin along a point Hinata had pointed out to him.

It slid through, and warm, live blood immediately began to flow.

Gaara closed his eyes and allowed a small, rare smile fall to his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

* * *

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

The boy stepped back, holding his hands in front of his face. "I'm—I'm sorry!"

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME!"

"P-please," the boy choked out, "don't be so mad at me. I'm sorry! Please—forgive me!"

"Your crimes are too many! You need to be stopped—all of you!"

"No—no—"

"First my father, then my sister, then my mother, then...me. You're a monster, a monster—"

"No—"

"A demon—"

"Please!"

"I curse you forever, Shikadai Nara. I curse you to hell." Suddenly the voice chuckled. "I promise you'll _never_ escape."

Shikadai woke up with a jolt, cold sweat rolling down his temples and his heart thudding loudly against his chest. His head was spinning and he noted a severe discomfort pulsing from the side of his body.

It was dark, he noticed—that meant it was nighttime. "Where am I?" he wondered aloud.

"In the hospital in Konoha."

Shikadai whipped his head around towards the sound of the voice, and sitting in a chair next to his bed was his uncle, his sea-foam green eyes glowing in the night.

"Uncle Gaara—" he began, but the words died in his throat when he saw the look in his uncle's eyes.

He had had million questions to ask the man, but looking into those ringed eyes, Shikadai realized that his uncle _knew_.

Knew what had happened on his mission that day. Knew what had happened. Knew what he'd done.

But Uncle Gaara wasn't looking at him any differently than he had before. The same calm and affection was still reflected off of those pale green orbs, as if nothing had changed, even though everything had changed.

 _He knows. And he doesn't feel any differently about me_ , Shikadai realized. Just like Shikadai didn't feel any differently about Uncle Gaara.

Before he realized it, a small smile graced his lips, and Uncle Gaara returned it the smile.

"How long have I been here?"

"Since yesterday."

"How was the Kage Summit?"

"We resumed where we left off today. We may have a few more days yet."

"How'd it go?"

Gaara paused for a moment. "Satisfactorily," he replied drily.

Shikadai turned his head back around and stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Suddenly, he had a million different questions to ask his uncle.

"How do you keep from going insane?" Shikadai asked in a small voice, suddenly changing the subject, although his uncle seemed to take it all in gist.

"I don't."

 _Oh. Right. "Sleep evades those who are insane," Shikadai remembered. No wonder Uncle Gaara doesn't sleep._

"But the voices—they won't stop. They won't leave me alone," Shikadai said, clenching his fists a bit tighter. "It's driving me mad—I don't know what to do—"

"You listen."

Shikadai turned back to look at Uncle Gaara again. "I listen?" he repeated.

Uncle Gaara nodded, but Shikadai had a feeling he still had something to say, so he waited.

"Human beings always have something to say," Gaara explained. "The words they speak are one of the manifestations of their inner selves, and the ability to speak is unique to humanity. One of the reasons they fear death—" Shikadai noticed that Uncle Gaara was again referring to the human race in third rather than first person—"is because death silences them forever. Very seldom does a man die having said everything he wished to say.

"Humans are silenced by one of two ways. One is by nature, and the other is by the hand of another human being.

"But there are ways to continue listening to what they have to say even after they've departed. You can often hear a person from the source at which they died. When a person is silenced by nature, you can hear them in the nature around you—like in the wind. But when a person is silenced by another person, they can be heard—from within that person."

Shikadai's eyes widened.

"I listen, because it is the least I can do for a person after I have silenced him from the world forever."

The implications of those words fell heavily on Shikadai.

"After a while, you are reminded that even after death, they are no less human than they once were."

Shikadai allowed this to sink in, and the two of them fell silent as Uncle Gaara's words continued to hover through the air.

For hours, Shikadai lay there, and Gaara sat there, unmoving, and they kept one another quiet company side by side, not needing words to relish in the presence of the other.

Before long, however, the darkness waned, and Shikadai looked out the window to see yellow skies, white clouds, and a rising sun peek out of the horizon.

Shikadai's and Gaara's heads both turned when the silence of the hallways outside started to subside to morning shuffling and chatter.

Gaara stood up, slinging his gourd onto his back. "I have to go," he informed Shikadai.

Panic seized Shikadai from within. "W-what? Please don't go yet—don't...leave me...alone."

Sand was already starting to consume Gaara's body. "I won't," he assured Shikadai.

"But—"

"Where the sand is, I am also," Gaara said. "And where my precious people are, I always will be."

"I-I'm scared..."

Shikadai felt like a little boy afraid of ghosts in the dark, but the irony was that he was a 12-year-old killer who was afraid of himself in the broad daylight.

"I know," Gaara repeated. "But I believe in you."

The sand became more chaotic until a sand tornado replaced where Uncle Gaara had been standing. Then the grains dispersed, leaving behind an empty chair—

Wait.

 _Where the sand is, I am also. And where my precious people are, I always will be._

"My hourglass..." Shikadai breathed out. In place of his uncle, the sand-and-gold hourglass his uncle had given him was sitting on the chair.

"I thought it broke..."

Shikadai reached out and felt a spark of electricity upon contact with the glass bulbs. The familiar warmth rushed through his veins.

"I guess Uncle Gaara is good at miracles. Or something."

Shikadai laid back down, holding the hourglass and its trickling sand tightly against his chest.

* * *

 **(1) Shikamaru is blood type AB and Temari is type O, so Shikadai is either A or B.**


	9. Chapter 8: Waking Up

**Author's note: Here's an extra long chapter to make up for the month and a half in which I was absent.**

 **Wait. Month and a half? *checks calendar* WHERE DID MY LOVELY 2015 GO? What is the creature we christen 2016?! Oh no, no, no!**

 **All right, my dear readers: should you have the power and desire to do so, I give you permission to find and kill me for letting you wait so long (waiver: offer expires in 24 hours). However, I cannot guarantee updates for this story from the afterlife. :P**

 **In all honesty, have a little sympathy for YZY here. High school and hormones are a bitch for us teenagers, and on top of that I have a professional career in music. I promise I will take double the effort to update the next chapter in a more timely fashion.**

 **I'm thirty days too late for Christmas but I'd still like presents very much (hint hint: my favorite gift from you readers are REVIEWS!)  
**

Chapter 8—Waking Up

White walls of a hospital room and a door were the only things

that barred Shikadai's ears from the conversations outside.

 _They're unimportant_ , said the voice in his head. The voice belonged distinctly to Shikadai's own, though it spoke without his command. _None of them can be trusted anyway. Don't trouble yourself into listening._

It was the voice of that one "ecstatic screamer" from the day before.

"You're back," Shikadai sighed. Last night, with simply his presence and a few words, Uncle Gaara had tamed his spirits and his mind, and while his uncle had instructed Shikadai to listen to the voices in his head, the boy couldn't help but have noticed his mind had remained surprisingly silent in his uncle's reliable presence. _Were the voices afraid of his uncle?_ Shikadai wondered in half amusement. He what his untrustworthy mind had in store for him now that Uncle Gaara was gone, though he did realize that the 'voice' was not as dominant as it had been the last time he'd heard it. Neither did it sound overly zealous or manic over something particularly violent; it actually sounded quite a lot like Shikadai's normal self, and Shikadai was glad, for he had no desire to indulge in the kind of a thing his other self seemed to relish in at the moment.

 _How could I be back if I never left?_ the voice asked Shikadai in a drawl. _I'm here to help, even though you're a troublesome fellow._

Okay—the voice spoke a little bit _too_ much like Shikadai would on a normal day. Shikadai forcibly ignored it—and instead tuned his ears to the sound of the voices coming from _outside_ his head. He perked up at the sound of a familiar voice—Aunt Sakura's—and the mention of familiar names.

"—and then Gaara appeared out of _nowhere_ and somehow brought everything under control—thank goodness—or who knows what might have happened—and _then_ he acts like nothing at all's happened and he says he wants to do the blood transfusion himself! Can you believe that? Seriously, that guy is as bad as Naruto sometimes—except I can't beat sense into him like I can with Naruto—argh! Naruto always says he and Gaara are alike even though they're practically complete opposites of each other, but I guess I understand now—Gaara's like, this smart, serious, scary version of Naruto—anyway, he says he wants to do the blood transfusion and says some really inappropriate things, and after all of that Naruto and Hinata actually _help_ him, even though they know the importance of performing medical procedures professionally—and then Gaara just teleports away. I was mad at Naruto, of course, but Hinata too? Geez. It wasn't until later that we found Shikadai in this wing of the hospital, and even though it's for other kinds of patients we didn't really want to go through the trouble of moving him to another room so we just kept him here. Fortunately, the Kazekage didn't make any mistakes with the blood transfusion—Shikadai was stable and sleeping it away—although it kind of makes me mad that Gaara got proven right! If he'd done something wrong then I'd show him the importance of professional medical procedure!

"Anyway, enough about that—how are you, Reiki? I'm sincerely sorry for the ordeal you had to go through yesterday—hospitals are places where people are supposed to heal, not get hurt—especially not the staff. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

 _What happened to this Reiki woman?_ Shikadai wondered. He was still a little dumbfounded from Aunt Sakura's little speech—what in the world had happened yesterday? It had clearly pertained to him somehow.

"No no, Lady Sakura, you did more than enough for me—if it weren't for your legendary healing abilities there'd be no way I'd be up and walking today. It was just some—bruises—and I feel perfectly fine now."

" _Just some bruises_? Why, don't be acting like Naruto now, Reiki. I saw the wounds on the back and on your neck and it was worse than just some bruises. Regardless, I'm giving you a few days vacation."

"Why—that won't be necessary—"

" _I insist._ "

Shikadai could imagine the pushy Aunt Sakura daring Reiki to contradict with a raised fist.

"Ah—all right then," Reiki conceded. Then her voice lowered and in a shaky voice, she asked—and Shikadai had to strain his ears to hear it—"And how is the boy?"

"He's—stable, I guess. If nothing like yesterday's fiasco happens again he should be recovering soon. His blood levels are back to normal. As for everything else—God knows what happened to him. Only time will tell."

"I—I see."

"Don't you worry about it, Reiki. And I totally understand where your discomfort comes from. It's sweet you still care about his welfare, after—you know."

"Well—of course! And he _is_ Mr. Nara's son, so I _am_ worried about him."

"Ahh...poor Shikamaru. Hope he's doing all right. Well, I was just going to check—" there was the sound fumbling on the doorknob, and suddenly the conversation sounded that much louder because the door had swung open—"on him, see how he's—ah! Shikadai!"

Sakura was met with the sight of two slightly amused teal eyes and a cocked head. Shikadai refused to allow any of his bafflement at the conversation he'd overheard shine through.

"So the Hokage is like Uncle Gaara, huh?" Shikadai had always liked Uncle Naruto, but if he was similar to Uncle Gaara, that was only more of a reason to make him an ally. The voice in his head was protesting, either.

"You're awake!" Sakura exclaimed, rushing to Shikadai's bedside and ruffling his bedhead.

Shikadai noticed a nurse standing at his doorway. She seemed pale and a little shocked. _What's with her_? "Reiki, is it? Good morning."

She stood there, looking a little dumbfounded, for a few moments, before returning Shikadai's greetings with a nod and scurrying away.

"What is wrong with you, young man?" Aunt Sakura interrogated. "You're on sedatives, and you're not supposed to be up yet!"

"I haven't slept for the entire night," Shikadai confessed.

Sakura's green eyes widened slightly in alarm, but she kept her cool for the sake of her patient. "Two times I've given you sedatives over the past three days and both times you wake up hours before you're supposed to! Usually we try everything to keep you from falling asleep, you little slacker...and now when we want you asleep you keep staying awake!"

"Twice?"

"Yeah; today and...a few minutes yesterday." Sakura looked away quickly.

"Anyway!" she continued. "Since you're awake now already I might as well give you your medicine." Shikadai made a face. "Oh, come on, now, it's not so bad." Sakura grabbed a prescription bottle—having learned to avoid the further use of needles on the boy—filled up a cup of water, and handed it to Shikadai along with two pills from the bottle. "Drink up, young man!"

Shikadai accepted the medicine and regarded them with sleepy, half-open eyes. Nonchalantly, he brought his hand to his lips—before his eyes suddenly snapped open with alarm.

Sakura, who had just happened to turn away for a moment, suddenly felt a sharp tug at her clothes. "What the—"

She whipped around and immediately gulped, suddenly facing those terrorizing eyes that had attacked Reiki yesterday.

"Is it poisoned?" Shikadai rasped.

Sakura huffed haughtily, trying to act normal. "Are you kidding me? Why in the world would those be _poisoned_?"

Shikadai narrowed his eyes at her. "How would I know?"

"Don't be ridiculous, those aren't poisoned—"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"I want you to verify that these aren't poisoned."

Sakura bit down on her tongue to prevent herself from retaliating against Shikamaru's son's rudeness. She watched he closed his fist around the pills, before bringing his hand up inches in front of his eyes, as if inspecting it. Spontaneously, he opened his hand and allowed the two tablets to fall onto his lap on the bed, his eyes following their journey every step of the way.

His expression turned sad all of a sudden. "So they are poisoned..."

"What! No!" Sakura exclaimed. Overwhelmed by the boy's strange antics, she roughly opened the prescription bottle once more and shoved a pill into her own mouth. Grabbing the water cup roughly from his hands—causing some liquid to spill onto the sheets, she took a gulp of water, swallowing the pill, before shoving the now half-full cup back into Shikadai's hands.

"There! Happy now?"

Shikadai appeared not to have heard her, instead nonchalantly picking up the two pills that had fallen onto his bed and placing them in his mouth.

"You're getting it once I start feeling the side effects of this medicine," Sakura growled, "it _is_ prescription, you know." She was again ignored.

Half amused, half miffed, she aimed one of her friendly, yet painful, whacks to his black-haired head—

Only for her hand to be stopped by gold instead.

Sakura inadvertently gasped but quickly silenced herself, sending a worried glance at the boy on the bed.

He was so entranced in his thoughts that he didn't even notice.

Sakura let out a sigh, feeling tense all over. The medicine was supposed to have calming and healing effects, and actually had no serious bad side effects, so maybe it would do her more good than harm.

"All right, I'll be back later, Shikadai!" she said as affably as possible. She was talking to an empty stone wall and "awkward" was an understatement.

 _What the hell is going on?_ Inner Sakura screamed. She never imagined that Shikamaru's son would be a patient that could baffle her so much. Everything about his conditions was off, and what was with all that gold? Did it have something to do with that hourglass Shikadai was holding? She knew it hadn't been there yesterday.

In retrospect, however, it was too little of a surprise that Sabaku no Gaara's nephew would be such a baffling patient.

 _Argh! I can't figure it out!_ She suddenly missed Sasuke.

* * *

 _In the wake of Gaara's and Shikadai's departure, the party in the hospital room stood in baffled silence for a few moments, the anxiety from the preceding events still hanging acutely in the air. They raging sandstorm had been a violent threat and all too quickly, it had been defused before their eyes, leaving them shocked and precarious._

 _After a prolonged moment, Shikamaru tested the waters of silence and mustered out the only thoughts that could possibly have been on the minds of everyone else in the room._

 _"What in the world...was that?"_

 _Amidst the disrupted silence, the Hokage, infamously resilient, and his former teammate, the strong-willed medic ninja, were the first to gain their bearing. Sakura immediately called in some other hospital staff to clean the bloody hallway and broken mirror and to collect the unconscious Reiki, bring her to another room, and begin healing her; Sakura herself would attend to the unfortunate nurse later, but right now, she couldn't miss any important developments on the Nara case. After the disposed nurse had been removed from the crime scene, Naruto walked meaningfully to the hospital room door and closed it, with everyone still in it._

 _He turned around with a grim expression on his face—for the likes of him, anyway. He gave Mirai, Chouchou, and Inojin three a look before pulling a chair and sitting down in front of them._

 _"Mirai, Chouchou, Inojin—" he began, and the three turned stiffly to address their Hokage, their respective parents behind them in silent support. Naruto seemed to notice their tenseness and held his hands in front of him in a surrendering gesture. "Relax, relax! No need to get all worked up and nervous, okay? Why don't you take a seat?" This didn't help, because there were no other chairs in the room besides the one Naruto was already occupying, leaving the bed the only other place to sit—and the sheets were still stained with Shikadai's blood. The three remained standing, and Naruto continued. "Things weren't supposed to turn out this way, but things will get better, and all of us just want to help the three of you and Shikadai. You want that, right? I won't make you file an official mission report like usual, but we just need to know what happened on your mission, and I also need to know what happened to Ryomen, since he was our client. I know you guys must've been attacked, no way else would something like this happen. Could you guys tell me?"_

 _Shikamaru and Temari both bit their tongues and fought back the urge to rush forward and beat the information out of the three shinobi, if necessary—their patience had truly been tested in finding out what the_ _hell_ _had happened to their son. However, they knew, for the best, that they should leave this up to the more amicable Naruto._

 _Breaths were held as the silence lingered longer, and the three shinobi being questioned felt the gazes of extremely curious eyes upon them, waiting to see what they would say._

 _Inojin, having run out of facades to plaster onto his face, turned towards the wall and hid his face and eyes. Sai, standing next to him, noted the trembling in his son's shoulders and remembered from somewhere in a book that this was a sign of uneasiness._

 _Mirai suddenly found her lip to be the perfect subject to chew, and her ringed red eyes darted about nervously, refusing to meet the Hokage's eyes. It wasn't that she hadn't experienced violence: it was the_ _members involved_ _in the violence of this mission that troubled her deep to her core._

 _Chouchou seemed to have no reaction at all—although this was short-lived, and to everyone's sudden surprise, she burst into tears, clinging desperately to her mother Karui._

 _The sound of Chouchou's sobs and wails filled the desolate hospital room. Karui, concern clouding her golden eyes, caressed her daughter's hair and rubbed her back. She, along with the other parents standing in the room, shared a worried look._

 _Chopped words were choked out from Chouchou's quaking lips, barely coherent: "I-it was going s-s-s-so well—t-took-k b-break—i-i-in the clear-r-ring—s-so sudden—r-random shin-no-obi-i—S-Suna—at-t-tack—Shikadai f-fighting—R-Ryomen—liar—a-and then, and then Shikadai, Sh-hik-kad-dai, he, he—"_

 _Chouchou had to pause to gasp for air. "Sh-hikad-dai, he—Sh-hadow, jutsu—there was-s—kunai—lots of—b-b-blood—and then R-Ryomen, he, he, he—"_

 _Chouchou broke down into yet another fit of fresh tears as she approached the unapproachable topic, and the flood on her face and her emotional state denied her from continuing._

 _"What happened?" Shikamaru demanded, not wanting to back down from finding out the truth._

 _"What happened to Ryomen, Chouchou?" Naruto asked, more gently than Shikamaru but with urgency in his tone._

 _Heads turned when Inojin, without looking up, suddenly spoke in a mere whisper, though everyone heard him. "Dead."_

 _At the sound of her teammate's voice, Chouchou only began to cry harder._

 _"What did you say, Inojin?" Sakura pressed, disbelief lacing her voice._

 _Mirai clasped her hands together and tried, but failed, to think of a way to defuse the situation. "No, it was Ryomen—who was—lying to us—"_

 _"WHAT?" Naruto screamed._

 _"But then, Shikadai, he was—so mad, and unstable, and—"_

 _Mirai found herself in a similar predicament to Chouchou, minus the tears._

 _Suddenly, she whipped around and faced the man she called her big brother and his wife, eyes reflecting heartbreak. "Big Brother Shika—Temari—_ _I'm so sorry_ _!" She buried her face in her hands and ran out of the room, Kurenai calling out to her in alarm and chasing after her, and Shikamaru and Temari standing in dismay as they attempted to decipher the meaning of Mirai's words and her apology._

Naruto Uzumaki, the Hokage, sat alone in his office and replayed the hectic events of yesterday, releasing a deep sigh—or at least, he tried to, but with the mouthful of curly noodles hanging out of his mouth, the exhale became more of a gurgle.

To pacify a worried Hinata about his unhealthy eating habits, Naruto had agreed to limit his ramen intake throughout the day, and not ever to have them in the morning as the first meal of the day. However, Naruto assured himself that he had a good excuse to make today an exception, what with the original stress of the Five Kage Summit these few days with the added stress of coming from the Nara family's situation.

Naruto guided his thoughts to the mission from which Ino-Shika-Chou had just returned. Everything about it screamed something troubling, and Naruto suddenly remembered how Gaara had seemed so suspicious of Shikadai's pending mission, while Naruto had waved it off and thought nothing of it.

The blonde man guiltily bit his lip. Mirai and Ino-Shika-Chou—one of his favorite ninja and ninja squads, respectively—and Ryomen—one of his favorite, most amiable clients—and he'd thought, _bam_ , put them together, and you get the perfect rescue mission!

Naruto cursed the fact that in a time of peace like this, one still had to worry about others' ulterior motives. It was pretty much established already that Ino-Shika-Chou and Mirai had been attacked on their mission, and most likely, Ryomen himself was behind it. From the emotional tidbits Shikadai's teammates had revealed yesterday, Naruto's "favorite client" was dead, and Shikadai was deeply involved.

 _I haven't dealt with such a mess in a long time...and I never thought it'd happen to Team Ino-Shika-Chou, or even Shikadai himself,_ Naruto thought grimly. _Not only is this personal, but it's also very serious._ He snickered to himself; after all the trouble of getting the bastard home, it looked it was time to send him away again. The bastard would be pissed; he was only supposed to arrive back in Konoha today from another one of his extended missions and had been promised at least a few days off before another departure. _Uh-oh._ Naruto's snicker was lost and he gulped. _Sakura will kill me._

Naruto quickly diverted his thoughts to the young Nara child in the hospital, and released. The boy had obviously undergone some traumatizing experience, but something else in addition to that had happened to him— _changed_ him—though Naruto was sure Shikadai was unaware of the change himself. The turn of events shocked Naruto just as Ryomen's doubtful loyalties had shocked him, except in Shikadai's case Naruto's shock was multiplied by ten. As unbelievable as the fact was, however, it was a fact.

Naruto's adviser had not arrived yet, and though he didn't blame the man at all, Naruto couldn't sit still not knowing how Shikadai's father had fared through the hell of a day and night he must have had. Naruto clearly remembered how well Shikamaru had fared when Asuma had died—any misfortune befallen onto his loved ones slowly and destructively ate up Shikamaru from the inside. It was in times like this that Naruto was glad Shikamaru had chosen Temari to be his life partner. Once, Naruto had never known much about the scary fan woman other than the fact that she was Gaara's sister, but upon getting to know her better, the Hokage had realized that she, and her siblings, were truly one of a kind—they never dodged obstacles because obstacles dodged _them_. No one—and nothing—dealt with Sand Siblings head on lest they wanted to be, depending on which sibling, drowned in poison, diced with wind, or crushed into oblivion.

That was the case, of course, for outside obstacles, because they had a hard outer shell impenetrable as Gaara's sand defense. On the other hand, their family was shaken twice as easily from obstacles from within.

With Shikamaru being as smart as he was, Naruto was sure he knew, too, about what was going on with his son. And Gaara knew too, of course. The Kazekage would be the most familiar, out of all of them, with an ability he himself possessed.

 _Stomp stomp stomp_.

"Huh?" Naruto wondered aloud.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a strange noise coming from outside his door. It sounded like someone storming, but this early in the morning, there was usually not many people in the Hokage Tower, and no one that Naruto knew of who stormed that way. He could definitely say that the _stomp stomp stomp_ ing was not Shikamaru's, so lethargic was the man's gait.

He was not worried about a threat; the Hokage Tower was Konoha's singular most guarded building, so whoever was running—and bold enough to stomp so loudly through the building—was not an enemy. Still, the stomping was growing distinctly louder and had evolved from _stomp stomp stomp_ to _STOMP STOMP STOMP_ ; Naruto could sense the footsteps turning the corner around the hall and heading to his office door.

Naruto stood up in preparation to receive whoever—or whatever—was rampaging through the Hokage Tower corridors on its way to his office.

 _Bang_! Naruto's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when a livid rhino crashed straight through his door and stampeded head-on, towards his desk. "Eep!" he cried out in a rather undignified manner.

The rhino was a feisty sandy blonde with teal eyes and an enraged expression; in her one hand she dragged Naruto's unfortunate adviser with her as a hostage (and Naruto barely noted, over his own misfortune, that this was rare early morning for the poor guy, seeing how the man was actually _wide_ _awake_ and flustered), and in her other hand was a crumpled, gray piece of paper that was aggressively slammed onto the Hokage's desk with force rivaled only by Sakura Haruno's.

Temari of the Sand was not the type of woman who threw tantrums and yelled heads off; no, she enjoyed toying with her prey and inflicting deep wounds with unbeatable logic, biting insults, and sarcasm, and Naruto Uzumaki now found himself inches away from her sharp eyes that expressed nothing but an animalistic temper.

"Naruto. Uzumaki." Temari ground out through her clenched teeth, closing in on Naruto so they were nose to nose. "What. Is. The. Meaning. Of. _This_?"

She bared a full set of ferocious white teeth at Naruto that had the man wondering randomly petty things like _why did the Sand Siblings all have such perfect teeth_? Naruto sent up a sincere prayer to whatever gods existed. God forbid that whatever had made the oldest Sand Sibling so mad at him—so mad that she'd gone from being a _sassy_ bitch to a _raging bitch_ —had not made the youngest Sand Sibling equally mad.

Naruto snuck a glance Shikamaru, only to find his adviser looking back at him with a grim expression. Okay, no help coming from _him_.

"H-h-hey, Temari," Naruto tried to say as disarmingly as possible. "Great to see you here—this—fabulous morning! How're ya doin'?"

"Rather marvelous, thank you very much," she replied with venomous sarcasm. "Care to find out why?"

 _No, because finding out might result in my imminent and very painful death_. "S-sure..."

"Take a look." Temari slammed her hand down on Naruto's desk once more without breaking eye contact with the Hokage. Naruto looked down and again noticed the crumpled gray sheet in Temari's fist.

Naruto took the paper from her hand—" _The Daily Leaf_?" he read from the corner of the paper. "Hey, that's that gossip newspaper that likes to poke their nose around everybody's business—"

Temari flashed Naruto an angry grin that was anything but happy. "And what do you know? We have the honors of the _front page story_!"

This was bad. Naruto didn't exactly have a pleasant history with the bigoted writers of _The Daily Leaf_ press himself. They were frighteningly conservative and in Naruto's humble opinion, "lunatics out of their goddamn minds who have nothing better to do than to brainwash their readers and make other people look and sound like shit." They were good at blowing up inconsequential things and turning a small misstep into an apocalypse. Just imagine what they had had to say about their knuckleheaded Hokage before.

"L-look, Temari, I don't have anything to do with _The Daily Leaf_! They're a private newspaper and I don't even read their crap! I honestly have no idea what kind of nonsense they could possibly have written about this time—"

"Right, because the oh-so-great Hokage can't even keep a story straight in his own goddamn city! He goes ahead and lets his wimpy little Konoha dumbasses sprout a bunch of _lies_!"

"That's not—"

" _We_ would never do this to _you_. _Gaara_ would never do this to you."

Temari was _mad_. Knowing that some of things she was saying were out of place, but that she was unable to control herself, her husband placed a firm hand on her heaving shoulder in silent consolation. However, the Hokage snuck a peek at Shikamaru and saw that while the man hadn't yet opened his mouth to say a word, he was equally as unhappy as his wife.

"I—"

"Just read the troublesome thing, Naruto," Shikamaru said, chillingly serious and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Naruto gulped and took the crumpled newspaper, smoothing it out on his desk. He looked down and took in the vicious glare of the Kazekage at full force.

 _You gotta give some credit to the photographer_ , he thought. _Hell, how in the world did he take this picture without shitting his pants? I haven't seen Gaara that unhappy in...damn. What was on his mind?_

 _If looks could kill_ , Naruto randomly mused. It was kind of surprising that the pale green eyes in the photo of Gaara hadn't yet burned holes through the very newspaper it was situated on. No wonder it was on the front page, or else the entire stack of the newspaper would have been incinerated.

 _If there's anyone I don't like I ever want dead, I'll just have to send this picture of Gaara through the mail! Have them open it first thing in the morning...they won't know what hit 'em._

Naruto banished all thoughts of using a photograph of one of his best friends to assassinate his enemies. Clearing his throat, he began to examine the article that had made Temari rampage into his office at far too early in the morning.

 **THE KAZEKAGE: SAVIOR OR ASSAILANT OF KONOHA'S INO-SHIKA-CHOU?**

And suddenly, it made sense.

 _The people of Konoha—no, the entire world—waited for many months of anticipation for one of the most important events of the entire year: the first Five Kage Summit. This paramount meeting would mark the first Five Kage Summit since Momoshiki and Kinshiki Otsutsuki's attack on Konoha!_

 _And yet, the long-awaited day has now been made memorable for entirely different reasons._

 _It came as a surprise that one individual was single-handedly responsible for the sequence of events on July 1, the day before yesterday—and that that one individual was one of the Kage, no less._

 _However, recall the identity of the Kazekage—and suddenly it is not so much of a surprise anymore._

 _A village truly has no place to meddle in the affairs of other villages—just as Konoha has no right to question Sunagakure's decision to appoint a mass-murderer its leader—_

"What the hell!" Naruto yelled, eyes flashing red, any semblance of a good mood absolutely dashed. He didn't like people talking about his friends this way. "Gaara became Kazekage like—more than ten years ago—and they're _still_ going on about— _argh_!" He pulled at his hair, looked up, and found the Nara couple staring at him intensely, but unsurprised. Taking a deep breath and muttering curses, the Hokage returned to the infuriating article in his hands.

 _A village truly has no place to meddle in the affairs of other villages—just as Konoha has no right to question Sunagakure's decision to appoint a mass-murderer its leader, even if we are allies of the desert country. Nevertheless, there are other factors that come into play since Konoha's Seventh Hokage—Naruto Uzumaki—treats his fellow Kage—and especially his Sunagakure counterpart, with whom he is unnaturally close—rather unlike foreign colleagues, and more like personal playmates—_

"What!" This article was getting harder and harder to continue reading. "Gaara's not my _playmate_!" That statement would have sounded ridiculously humorous had the situation not been so humorless. "And what's wrong with him being my _friend_?"

 _...and more like personal playmates. The Fifth Kazekage Sabaku no Gaara is not potentially dangerous, but_ unquestionably _dangerous—and it is when he decides to make Konoha his own personal sandbox that we reserve the right to concern._

 _With the transpiration of events that began on the initial day of the Five Kage Summit's commencement, we citizens of Konoha may have reason to act upon our right to concern._

 _While all details of the Five Kage Summit should be confidential, the fact that the Kazekage, Sabaku no Gaara, singlehandedly and unabashedly cut short and_ walked out _of the middle of the meeting has not escaped the notice of the public._

 _While such an action may seem rather preposterous, it appears that while the other Kage are indeed puzzled for the Kazekage's reasons, they are not so surprised at his mannerisms. The Fourth and current Tsuchikage, whom we at_ The Daily Leaf _were lucky enough to encounter yesterday—_

"More like _stalk_!" Naruto accused heatedly. "They would never just accidentally 'bump' into someone like Kurotsuchi!"

 _The Fourth and current Tsuchikage, whom we at_ The Daily Leaf _were lucky enough to encounter yesterday, shared with us some interesting insight into Sabaku no Gaara's behavior. While she claimed to take offense at the Kazekage's rash interruption, she proceeded to roll her eyes and claim that, "Lord Kazekage is totally the kind of person who would do something like that. Never had it in him to be polite. Gramps [the Third Tsuchikage] told him off one time about having no manners, and do you know what he said? He said, 'I guess that's why I'm here as Kazekage!'"_

"Those slimy bastards! Kurotsuchi would never have said that if she'd known they'd use it against Gaara! She may be scary and mean most of the time but that doesn't mean she'd do something like this out of spite!" Naruto fumed. "They must have pretended to be some innocent curious civilians or something when they approached her!" In an alarming change of demeanor Naruto suddenly giggled, "Did Gaara really say that?"

" _Yes_ ," Temari said impatiently.

"Just keep reading, Naruto," Shikamaru commanded.

 _Justly, we can consider the Sabaku no Gaara's rudeness a despicable but excusable offense. It has been learned that he had left the Five Kage Summit in order to assign a mission. Still, what kind of emergency mission would be urgent enough to show up in and interrupt the middle of the Five Kage Summit, of all things?_

The text reached the end of the page, and Naruto flipped the paper over to continue reading. At the top was what would have been a stunning photo of a determined-looking Temari sitting atop her fan, if not for her torn clothes and the bloody bundle in her arms.

 _The very same afternoon, the city of Konoha was met with a bizarre sight. Temari of the Sand, a notorious Sunagakure kunoichi residing in Konoha—who just so happens to be sister of the Kazekage—_ glided _back into the village on her fan with the youngest of the Nara head family—who just so happens to be her son, and member of the prominent Ino-Shika-Chou shinobi team._

 _Shikadai Nara, who is the son of Hokage adviser Shikamaru Nara and had left earlier the same day on an escort mission, was immediately admitted to the Konoha Hospital for treatment of life-threatening wounds. It is unclear why he, alone, returned to Konoha in a critical state. The same evening, two chunin from Sunagakure arrived in Konoha (the two Suna chunin—a male puppeteer and a kunoichi whose abilities are unclear—will remain in Konoha for the next few days), apparently escorting the other two members of the Ino-Shika-Chou team, Inojin Yamanaka and Chouchou Akimichi, along with Mirai of the Sarutobi Clan, back to Konoha. Yamanaka, Akimichi, and Sarutobi returned unscathed._

 _Or so it was assumed. Yesterday, those assumptions were challenged when it was reported the three shinobi did, in fact, suffer damage, albeit not physically. Instead, they appeared to be experiencing some sort of psychological trauma, the extent of which is still unknown. Upon inquiry, Yamanaka, Akimichi, and Sarutobi all refused to disclose details of their mission, which was clearly more dangerous than its C-rank status._

"How the hell did they even find out about that?" Naruto wondered aloud.

"News and gossip seems to have a way of telling itself in this city," Shikamaru offered.

 _Nara was not exempt from apparent psychological damage either. While for the most part unconscious due to his injuries, he has been reported to have displayed very irrational bouts of spontaneous violence during his wakefulness. It appears that his episodes are even more concerning than his physical condition. Further details seem to have been prohibited from release._

Naruto breathed a sigh of relief that the reporters hadn't expanded upon Shikadai's condition further. That would cause an uproar.

 _These facts only become all the more baffling when one considers the Kazekage's involvement in the turn of events. While some may express gratitude that the Kazekage rescued Ino-Shika-Chou when there mission went awry, a question remains: how did the Kazekage no something wrong had happened in the first place—when Ino-Shika-Chou were on a mission for the Hokage? When even the Hokage was apparently oblivious? When they were situated so far away from the village? In fact, how did he even_ know _about the mission in the first place?_

 _The Kazekage could very well come up with a plausible and defendable story to answer some of these questions. While it is considered a violation of international code to share shinobi and mission information between villages, we should not put it Naruto Uzumaki to share Ino-Shika-Chou's C-rank mission details to his "friend", Sabaku no Gaara. In the correspondences between the Hokage and Kazekage, the issue's sensitivity may have been reconsidered due to the one crucial fact that Shikadai Nara is not only a member of Ino-Shika-Chou, but also the nephew of the Kazekage himself._

 _Shikadai Nara himself could also have very possibly been the one to inform his uncle about his mission. Nara and the Kazekage were spotted together on frequent occasions for the few days leading up to July 1. It is not uncommon for young shinobi to inform their family members about their missions, especially when they are to be travelling outside of the village._

 _How did the Kazekage know Ino-Shika-Chou were in "trouble"? This question cannot be answered definitely, but Sabaku no Gaara's prowess in long-range and sensory jutsu has long been acknowledged. The extent of his capabilities are not entirely known, so it is perfectly believable that he possesses a sand jutsu that lends him the ability of silent, long-distance communication. The Kazekage's sand powers may have alerted him somehow to stewing trouble._

 _Are these assumptions enough to vindicate the Kazekage? Could he really have been the noble savior of Konoha's Ino-Shika-Chou in a time of need?_

 _It would not be surprising if the members of Ino-Shika-Chou were shaken or rattled upon return from whatever traumatizing experience they'd gone through—but what is the explanation for the evident psychological damage done? For Shikadai Nara's apparent panic attacks? Yamanaka's, Akimichi's, and Sarutobi's tight-lippedness?_

 _Does the evidence possibly expound the Kazekage as being a liability, rather than justify his actions?_

 _Could the Kazekage...be the initiator of an attack on Ino-Shika-Chou?_

No _, Sabaku no Gaara's friends would say. They'd deem him incapable of such a deed, and would defend his noble intentions to the last straw._

 _Friends of Sabaku no Gaara—the Hokage, Naruto Uzumaki—calls himself such, and the Hokage is a man widely known for his acceptance of even the worse criminals and delinquents. Unfortunately, there are but a handful of other individuals who view Gaara's activities on July 1 with unquestionable confidence of guiltlessness. Recent surveys show that the Kazekage's approval rate in Konoha is low, and Konoha's citizens' faith in his innocence in the recent turn of events involving Ino-Shika-Chou to be even lower._

 _Could the Kazekage be the initiator of the attack on Ino-Shika-Chou? This time, the people of Konoha consider the problem from a subjective point of view, and they say_ yes _._

 _What kind of a person would the Kazekage be if he were capable of such a deed? To attack the shinobi of an allied nation—and his_ nephew _, no less?_

 _For such an infamous person—one of the most profiled in the shinobi world—Sabaku no Gaara is shrouded in mystery. Hero, villain, killer, or Kage—just what is he?_

 _Some may forgive, but none of us forget the Sabaku no Gaara we first met long ago during a fateful Chunin Exams in Konoha. While he was crucial part of the invasion organized by the Sand and Sound, many of us became convinced about the existence of an underworld, for surely the bloody psychopath of a 12-year-old, whose Konoha victims numbered among his hundreds, did not come from Sunagakure, but from hell itself._

 _That is why it shocked us all to no ends when the very same boy came to Konoha's aid, apparently having made a 360-degree turnaround. It is a rarity to encounter a person who embodied evil as well as Gaara once did, and even rarer to find to such a person transform an individual of compassion and strong conviction of morale._

 _This change served to concern many of us rather than relieve us, for it only made Sabaku no Gaara more of an enigma than before. Some in Konoha expressed the belief that mental illness and instability—perhaps a multi-personality disorder—attributed to the Sunagakure shinobi's many faces and inconsistent behavior and demeanor._

 _Others were bent towards the simpler notion that Gaara was attempting to give up his murderous old ways and repress his urges._

 _If the latter were true, the effort taken could only have been even greater than Hokage Mountain itself. Addiction to alcohol and nicotine are but minor misdemeanors in comparison to Gaara's former bloodlust, but even those are obsessions difficult, if not impossible, to erase, the process of recuperation taking years, if not a lifetime. Gaara's supposed transformation took less than a year. Is it really possible that in a few short months, he was able to arrest his terrifying addiction of 12 years for the rest of his life?_

 _Sunagakure citizens now swear to their Kazekage's unending valor, heroism, and morality. However, our desert allies are infamous for brutality, ruthlessness with a strong liking towards violence. What does their Kazekage's "valor, heroism, and morality" mean for them? There is no way to tell what Sabaku no Gaara really has done since his "transformation" and ascension to the position of Sunagakure leader._

 _In the light of the recent events in Konoha, could it possible that the attack on Ino-Shika-Chou was one of the Kazekage's relapses of his old compulsion for blood and murder?_

 _It would be a clever move on the Kazekage's part were it so. Sabaku no Gaara will be eternally protected in this village because of his friendship with the Hokage Naruto Uzumaki, who would not allow harm or official blame to come upon his sandy friend. To choose to attack his nephew's team would be a perfect scapegoat, for few would fathom that the Kazekage would be hardhearted enough to elicit assault on his own kin._

 _All these circumstances are extremely perplexing as they seem to point both away and towards the Kazekage as the culprit. We would have our intelligent Hokage adviser Shikamaru Nara attempt to sift out the details, were he not partial to the involved members of this crisis._

 _But say the Kazekage was indeed guilty—wouldn't that explain why Shikadai Nara would react so negatively? Why Inojin Yamanaka, Chouchou Akimichi, and Mirai Sarutobi were so adamant in keeping quiet?_

 _How could they admit that the perpetrator was, in fact, their teammate's uncle, the leader of an allied nation, their Hokage's good friend...and an infamous killer?_

The pale skin and stark crimson 愛 on Gaara's smooth face was suddenly marred with a million wrinkles as the front page article proudly bearing the title _The Daily Leaf_ was crumpled into a ball and flung across the room from the Hokage's fist as if it were on fire. A long line of profanities vulgar enough to incapacitate the delicate Hinata twice over came as a torrent from his mouth; Shikamaru and Temari, a couple who were strangers to squeamishness, took the barrage unflinchingly.

"Those _slimy bastards_!" Naruto roared. "How _dare_ they talk this kind of shit about Gaara? I can't believe there's still this kind of no-good people in Konoha! They're obviously the group that doesn't think to highly about me, either...Have they forgotten _everything_ Gaara has done for Konoha in the past—I don't know—twenty years? It's like they want to _break_ the alliance or something! Well, that ain't ever gonna happen—not while _I'm_ Hokage!

"They keep saying _we_ , _we_ , _we_ in the damn article! Most of Konoha doesn't share their stupid opinion—" Naruto suddenly fell short when he saw the look in Shikamaru's and Temari's faces—"do they?" he asked, significantly quieter.

He was answered with grim silence, but he allowed his fire to be reignited quickly. "Well, it's these damn assholes' fault, they're the ones spreading around all this bull crap!" They aren't gonna get away with this! I'm gonna make them pay for talking about my friend this way! You know what, they should just—go eat—dirt—or something! Or sand—yeah! Just wait till Gaara sees this—"

"That would be unnecessary."

The sound of a cool voice halted Naruto's seemingly unstoppable tirade. Three heads whipped around.

Naruto gawked for a moment, not expecting to see the subject of his thoughts so quickly. Normally, he would have wondered aloud how Gaara had arrived into his office undetected. Sneaky bastard.

"You said to wait for me to see 'this'. I am here, so waiting is no longer necessary," Gaara explained, mistaking Naruto's, Shikamaru's, and Temari's surprise for confusion. "Although, truth be told, you must inform me whatever 'this' may be. I am, as of yet, unaware."

Naruto opened and closed his mouth a few times, before shaking himself out of his stupor and soundlessly pointing a finger at the crumpled paper on the ground where he had thrown, his face scrunched up with a look of distaste as he remembered the foul words in the newspaper.

Shikamaru and Temari looked at each other and suddenly shared a panicked look. They turned towards Naruto who suddenly seemed to catch the message: he had nearly gone crazy reading that article and Temari had been even worse. Shikamaru hadn't spoken much but obviously his reaction to _The Daily Leaf_ story had left him worse for wear, if his expression was anything to go by. How would Gaara react...?

Gaara, who had never in his life bent down to pick up something off the ground, allowed his sand to transport the crinkled ball into his awaiting hands. Three pairs of eyes watched the Kazekage like a hawk, and they held their breaths as they observed Gaara smooth out the paper and scan the words. Naruto noticed that Gaara displayed no reaction to what he now called the "scary killer photograph", though he guessed the effect was lost if the picture was a portrait of yourself.

In fact, Gaara displayed little reaction at all to any of the article in his hands. His eyes flickered for a millisecond of inscrutable emotion when he turn the report around and saw the picture of Temari rescuing Shikadai, but blankness returned to them before anyone could discern what it meant.

Naruto's expression was unusually attentive when Gaara slowly looked up, having finished reading. The Kazekage's sister and brother-in-law waited with thinning patience in the silence they did not dare break. The couple knew Gaara better than anyone, yet with their combined smarts, they had no clue how the man would react.

"Who wrote this?" Gaara asked.

"It doesn't say, Gaara," Temari answered her little brother.

"Coward probably didn't want anyone to know who was the one writing this trash," Naruto supplied, willing himself not to pity the reporter were his somehow identity uncovered to Gaara.

"That's unfortunate," Gaara said. "He appears to be an eloquent reporter; this article...is very well written."

Huh?

That was _not_ the expected reaction.

"Well written? Are you insane?" Shikamaru was the one who broke the silence this time.

Gaara looked at his brother-in-law while he answered, although he avoided answering his question, which made the answer to it all the more doubtful. "The writer is clearly well-researched regarding Konoha's history and its state of affairs. That is a valuable quality for a citizen to have, and even more valuable for a reporter. Had I chosen to run a newspaper instead of a country, I surely would have employed him for being so well informed—"

"Well-informed my ass!" Temari usually tried to keep herself under control in front of her youngest brother, but the article, his disappointing reaction, and morning's too-early hour were wearing her thin. "Gaara, it's okay to be angry sometimes," she pleaded. "Gaara, I know you like to be rational, but it's not healthy not to feel _any_ emotional reactions to things like this!"

"You know, little brother," Shikamaru said slowly, seriously assuming the role of an elder brother (Kankuro had given him lessons), "it is _okay_ to feel _angry_ sometimes. It's only _human_."

Gaara pinned Shikamaru with an indecipherable stare at the word _human_. The latter man bit his tongue to keep himself from saying "troublesome."

"Yeah, Gaara!" Naruto's loud voice filled the room. "You're pissing me off by not feeling pissed off!" _This is why we were all worried about Gaara's reaction._

Apparently, it pissed Gaara off that Naruto was pissed off he wasn't pissed off...or something, because when Gaara spoke again, his voice was noticeably snappish. "Do not try to egg me into getting angry, Uzumaki." Shikamaru and Temari shared an _uh-oh_ look. Despite their friendship, Naruto and Gaara frequently had polar opposites for viewpoints of the world but clones of one another's ridiculous stubbornness. Preposterous didn't begin to describe their banter on some of the most ludicrous subjects once they started calling one another by last name. Gaara was, in many ways, similar to Naruto, but he was also very much like Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto's favorite verbal spar partner, as well. Might one say Gaara was an odd combination of the both of them? "Anger on one's own behalf is not only a wasted emotion, it is also a despicable one. I spent the first twelve years of my life feeling nothing but that. Unless you wish for you and I to relive those times, I suggest you not lecture me about this."

"Oh yeah? What if I _want_ to lecture you about this? You're always talking about doing the right thing and you're letting these _Daily_ _Leaf_ bastards—" Naruto pointed rudely at the article still in Gaara's hands—"get off scot-free for wrongly accusing the Kazekage? Yeah, the Kazekage may be a jerk with mixed priorities but come on, you're still. The. Kazekage. People don't deserve to be punished for something they didn't do—don't you agree, _Sabaku_? And you didn't do anything this time! You didn't do anything wrong!"

"I didn't do anything wrong?" Gaara asked cryptically. "If you consider my crimes to have been rightfully committed, then my trust in you as Hokage may have been misplaced."

"What?" Naruto scoffed. "Don't tell me you're dragging up ancient history here, Sabaku."

"I barely consider myself ancient, Uzumaki. And history does not rewrite itself. Hundreds of humans are wrongfully corpses at my hand. History and identity can be added onto a person but never detracted.

"I am not the Kazekage now to pay for my past crimes, Uzumaki. I am the Kazekage only to protect my current beliefs. Anything I do now, is not what I would consider a form of payment towards what wrongs I have committed in the past. In fact, my ideals from then and now are still similar: I will defend whatever is important to me at all costs. Now, my people, my village, and my world are important to me. Before, my existence was the only thing important to me. I was once a murderer, an embodiment of pain, darkness, and hatred. Such a person only deserves death."

"Gaara—" Temari cried out in alarm.

Gaara did not give her the chance to continue. "If this—" he held up the newspaper report—"really is recompense for the person I was long ago, it is a compensation so dismal an amount that I cannot believe you would take up such a fuss over it."

Gaara turned to Shikamaru. "How did we first meet?"

"Don't be so troublesome, Gaara—"

"How did we first meet?" Gaara pressed unrelentingly.

Shikamaru sighed, knowing any argument would be useless against the Kazekage when he was like this. Fighting with Gaara was difficult, as the Kazekage could be intimidating _and_ convincing at the same time, and although Shikamaru could probably outsmart him in a verbal battle if he tried, Shikamaru didn't want to try. "We...met in the hospital..."

"And what was I doing?"

"You were...aww, come on, little brother, I'm not even trying to choose sides, do I have to do this?"

"Yes."

"Well, you were, you know...trying to kill Lee." It would only serve to irritate his brother-in-law further if Shikamaru tried to sugarcoat, but the Nara noticed the Hokage shoot him a dirty look for giving Gaara what he wanted.

Gaara turned back to Naruto. "I would find it appalling, Uzumaki, if you tried so adamantly to defend the murderer of your good friend."

Naruto cried out incredulously. "But Bushy Brow's not dead, you dimwit! Or are you trying to tell me that the guy I saw last night was a ghost? Because as far as I'm concerned, you saw him too!"

"What were the names of those three Rain ninja, Temari?"

"W-what?" The abrupt change is subject was disconcerting, even for Gaara's older sister.

"The three Rain ninja in the Forest of Death."

Temari scowled at her little brother's antics. For once, she was willing to side with Naruto's side of the conflict, but her little brother wasn't giving the Hokage much of a chance to argue. "Well how the hell am I supposed to know? We didn't exactly _ask_. Like it matters."

"I know their names," Gaara said. His three audience sucked in their breaths, knowing what was coming next could not _possibly_ be anything good. "They were called Numbers 363, 364, and 365."

363, 364, and 365 on the list of casualties at Gaara's hand at the age of 12.

"Do you know who Numbers 363, 364, and 365 were, Uzumaki? They were three Rain ninja I killed in the Forest of Death. Number 363 looked at me the wrong way, so I used his umbrella while I made a rainstorm out of his blood. Numbers of 364 and 365 pleaded for mercy. I thought they were pathetic. They became much more entertaining after I turned them into stains in the dirt."

Shikamaru hoped Gaara didn't notice him shivering at the tale. The Nara man remembered all too well the Gaara he'd first met. He did not like to be reminded.

"I would say that Rock Lee would have been no different to me than Number 366, but that isn't true. He would have been no different to me than Number 369."

Curiosity got the better of a displeased Naruto. "Then what about...366, 367, and 368?"

"Them? Ah...I distinctly remember, that their blood was very alluring..."

"JUST ANSWER THE DAMNED QUESTION?" Naruto boomed.

Gaara continued unfazed. "They're names were still 366, 367, and 368 even after Kankuro and Temari begged me not to kill them. It was a pity, too; they would have made a delicious feast. It was only later that I learned their names were Aburame, Inuzuka, and Hyuuga."

Silence prevailed. Shikamaru turned to Temari with an alarmed look. Somehow, his wife had "forgotten" to impart this charming tale to him, and for Shikamaru, this was news.

Naruto suddenly leapt to his feet. "HINATA?" Naruto yelled, and made a movement as if to lunge for Gaara.

With lightning reflexes, the Nara couple sprang apart from one another, the husband to his Hokage and the wife to her Kazekage.

" _Calm down_ , Naruto!" Shikamaru growled, fiercely gripping the blonde man by the shoulders. "You know that Gaara is just trying to goad you, so don't give in! You should know better than to get worked up over something like this. These are things from the past and Gaara's your friend now and you know that, dammit. You've gotten over this already so it's no reason to get mad now. Besides, this has nothing to do with what all of us came here for this morning. So get your gear together and don't fall for his trick. Deep breaths, Naruto."

Naruto's chest rose and fell heavily several times as he met his adviser's eyes. "Okay, okay." He exhaled slowly. "Calm down, calm down." He sat back down heavily. "Okay, okay. I'm calm."

Meanwhile, Temari was looming over her little brother, using her superior height to her advantage, with one finger jabbed in Gaara's chest and her other hand reaching behind her head and tugging at her ponytails—something she did unconsciously when exasperated. "Care to explain to me what that was all about, little brother?" She sounded immensely like a mother admonishing a child. "I never pegged you for the childish and immature type. God, I'd forgotten how self-incriminating you could be." _Only my brothers can be childish while talking about how they ripped their victims apart in the past. Sheesh, this family._

Gaara met Temari's teal gaze, and the elder Sand Sibling expected to be confronted with defiance and childish stubbornness. Instead, to her surprise, the steadfast Gaara dropped his eyes to the floor, as if ashamed. "I apologize. My behavior was most unbefitting. All of you are my most trusted people and I allowed myself to get slightly...carried away." It was true. For Gaara's standards, he had been unusually talkative and... _passionate_...this morning.

"Understatement of the yeeeeear!" Naruto mock-sang.

"Gaara," Temari began, her voice softened down to a tone she reserved only for her youngest brother. "I'm not asking you to ignore or forget about the past. In fact, I think your the bravest man in the world for having the courage to confront your past this way. Gaara, all of us know that _that_ is still a part of you and we're not trying to deny it.

"But do you even know what you're doing when you self-deprecate this way? Gaara, you are important to so many people. And when you criticize yourself and talk about yourself like that, you're letting down the people of Sunagakure who look up to you. You're letting down the people of Konoha and the rest of the shinobi nations who love and respect you. You're letting down your friends. And you're _hurting me._ And dammit, if Shikadai were here, you'd be hurting him too."

Gaara's emotionless mask broke into one of horror. To a stranger, Gaara's "horrified expression" was unimpressingly bland, but Temari, Naruto, and Shikamaru knew better. After all, to be the cause of pain to his important people was the last thing Gaara wanted.

"Look, Gaara, I'm sorry too," Naruto said, not standing the miserable look on his friend's face. "I overreacted, okay? I'm not actually mad at you. Of course I'm not mad at you, why would I be mad at you?" he rambled, then sighed. "I suppose it's like Temari said. I mean, if it were you I'm positive you wouldn't haven't let this happen." Naruto rubbed his eyes.

Perhaps the reason for Gaara's indiscernibility was his lack of eyebrows. Had he them, one would be raised in question.

"What I mean is to let people think this way and talk this way about you. I mean, even if we forget everything you've done for Konoha as the Kazekage in the past few—decades, what you did _this_ time was a huge favor for us! I don't even want to think about what might have happened to Ino-Shika-Chou if it hadn't been for you? You saved our precious shinobi. Konoha owes you a debt and as Hokage, I should be the one responsible for how that debt is repaid. And this—" Naruto again gestured to the newspaper article—"is not how Konoha is supposed to repay you! You did something good and all you get is suspicion and all this freaking trash talk?!"

"Naruto," Gaara replied with his trademark calm and patience—Temari had effectively subdued his snappishness. "What I did was nothing more than what I wanted to do. And what I wanted was to do the right thing, and to protect the people who are the most precious to me. Shikadai is safe now, so I am at peace." Naruto noted that Gaara didn't mention Shikadai's teammates. So his priority was his nephew after all. "If you really desire so badly to repay me, you needn't worry, for you have already done so."

"I have?" Naruto wondered incredulously. "And how the hell have I?"

"In the past, people have wanted to say things about me a thousand times worse than this." Gaara raised the newspaper article for all to see. "But they didn't, out of fear of upsetting me. To know that people—from another village, no less—are now willing to publish their honest opinions about me, is a luxury." Gaara smiled at Naruto through his green eyes. "And it also makes the positive sentiments about me, coming from my friends—all the more...meaningful."

The Hokage had a thousand things to say about how the Kazekage should give himself more credit. He could have said them. Instead, he looked back at his red-haired friend in understanding and offered him a wide smile—

"I came here to discuss an important matter with you."

Naruto blinked, slightly unhinged by the sudden change from friendly to businesslike in Gaara's tone. Only Gaara could switch between subjects at different ends of the spectrum without batting an eye.

Shikamaru and Temari did not seem surprised, but rather, expectant and a little...wary.

"I understand that this is a startling change for you. But this pertains a citizen and shinobi of Konoha whom I have sworn to protect. Secrecy is required for the safety of your son," Gaara told the couple.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up for a sec! Just what are we talking about here?" Naruto asked, bewildered.

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. "Shikadai," Temari answered shortly.

"What about him?"

Shikamaru sighed, pinching his nose and muttering under his breath. "The kekkai genkai that he somehow awakened," he informed Naruto.

"Oooooh. That. The Magnet Release, right?"

"If only. But that's just part of it," Shikamaru answered.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Think about any kekkai genkai, Naruto. It requires the user to mold their chakra in a unique way that subsequently results in a kekkai genkai. Users of the Sharingan, for example, have to direct an unusually large amount of mental energy and chakra to their eyes. For the Magnet Release, users create magnetic forces to manipulate objects or substances. They mold their chakra to create a magnetic field."

"The Magnet Release exists among the shinobi of Sunagakure, Kumogakure, and Iwagakure, and is not limited to one clan," Temari continued explaining, right on par with her intelligent spouse. "But the Kazekage Clan bloodline's Magnet Release is considered unique to the kekkai genkai the rest of the world possesses because it's much more formidable than the average Magnet Release. It's so powerful that black ring-like markings appear around the user's eyes when it's activated—kind of like how Sharingan users' eyes turn red or veins appear around eyes of the Byakugan. Our clan's kekkai genkai is exponentially more powerful and utilizes very little chakra to magnetically manipulate huge amounts of substances over wide expanses. That's why Magnet Release-bearing members of our clan can afford to utilize a stationary-type fighting style, since it takes little more than a mental command to control large amounts their weapon of choice, whether it be Iron Sand or Gold Dust. It's also why most of them suck at taijutsu," she lamented as a side note.

"Anyway," Shikamaru continued for her (while Naruto marvelled at how the Nara couple was constantly on the same page), "Gaara here, is obviously the latest heir to the Kazekage's Clan's kekkai genkai. So why is he still so much more powerful than his predecessors?"

Naruto wished that Shikamaru would just explain everything to him, rather than ask him and make him potentially make a fool of himself by answering stupidly. "Uhh...because of Shukaku and his awesome sand powers?"

Shikamaru and Temari's silence indicated to the Hokage that that was the wrong answer—although Naruto heard Gaara quietly ask, "Awesome?" in question.

"Uhh...because of his ultimate defense?"

 _Bingo_. "Think about why Gaara has rings around his eyes," Temari said. _I used to think it was because of eye makeup_ , Naruto thought secretly. "It's because Gaara doesn't have to activate his Magnet Release, which is activated at all times. Gaara's chakra creates an interminable magnetic field, and it does it without his having to mold any chakra at all. He doesn't even have to think about it."

"In other words, he _can't_ think about it," Shikamaru commented more darkly. "He can't deactivate his Magnet Release, and he can't shut off the magnetic field that his body creates constantly, for every second of every day."

"His automatic sand defense," Naruto said. He'd always thought of Gaara's defense as a gift, but Shikamaru was saying it like it was a curse. Naruto glanced at Gaara, but of course, the man had no visible reaction.

"As a result, Gaara's chakra is especially sensitive," Temari informed. "It can summon sand to protect him without his even having to think about it, so it's easy to lose control when he _does_ think about it, even slightly. It's partially why...Gaara had such an...unstable childhood." Temari grimaced at the memory.

Naruto felt a pang for his friend. It was at times like these that Naruto was reminded that, despite the similarities of their Jinchuuriki statuses, how different his own and Gaara's childhoods were. Naruto had once sought attention and deliberately been reckless and mischievous to make up for his lack of skill. Gaara, on the other hand, had all the attention in the world but wanted none of it, and was so skilled, _too_ skilled— _not_ deliberately so, but skilled nonetheless, that he constantly committed acts of sin—accidentally crushing enemies to death with sand—that only added on to his reputation that he never wanted to have.

"But Gaara's learned to control it, and now he probably has the most refined chakra control out of anyone in the world." Temari's eyes flashed with pride for a millisecond, before worry suddenly drowned it out a moment later.

"So you see, Gaara's had a lot of experience, but not without encountering a lot of...difficulties, along the way." Shikamaru sighed. "Shikadai, on the other hand..."

For a moment, Naruto was confused as to what Shikamaru's son had to do with this. That was before it suddenly hit him. "Wait...don't tell me..."

"Shikadai's inherited the automatic defense," Temari finished for him.

Naruto started. This brought things up a whole other degree. "But that's not possible! It was Gaara's thing, so why does Shikadai have it...what...how...?"

"It won't be with sand, of course...that was Shukaku's thing," Shikamaru explained. "But Gold Dust..."

"Shikadai's Magnet Release is a surprise to all of us," Gaara spoke up. "In all rights, he should not even have the ability to control Gold Dust. The kekkai genkai depends heavily on genetics, and neither Temari nor Shikamaru possess it. He seems to have inherited it directly from his grandfather, Rasa." He paused. "The source of the automatic defense, on the other hand, is his grandmother, Karura's, love," Gaara said. "She died giving birth to me, but she continued to live on in the sand. She gave me the will to protect me through my sand.

"Before Shikadai's mission, I passed down Karura's gift to protect her posterity to Shikadai. I entrusted to him a small amount of his grandmother's sand and his grandfather's Gold Dust, and in doing so, may have entrusted to him both Karura's love and Rasa's Magnet Release. When he encountered a time of need, both were awakened at the same time.

"Shikadai is Karura's next descendant after me, to whom she passed down the sand's automatic defense. The sand may run and change over time, but it will never weather away. And perhaps, neither will Karura's love."

"D-do you mean...Karura's passed down the automatic defense to all of her descendants?" Naruto asked breathlessly.

"I believe...she created a new bloodline limit. Not just any old Magnet Release, but Magnet Release coupled with automatic defense," Shikamaru told him.

Naruto jumped up from his desk. "Congratulations!"

Three startled pairs of eyes looked at him with bemusement.

"This is great news..." he prattled on. "I mean Gaara's jutsu is one of the most powerful in the whole world and it's hands down _the_ best defense, like, _ever_! And now Shikadai's got it too! Whoohoo! This is so cool!

"You guys must be so proud right now...hey, what's with the sour faces? Aren't you guys happy? This means Shikadai can't ever get hurt, just like Gaara, right...?"

"Remember what we said about Gaara's chakra?" Temari asked. "It's extremely sensitive and difficult to control. Gaara had a difficult time with it and he was _born_ with it.

"Gaara's chakra is also one of the most coveted types in the world. You had the advantage of secrecy when you were a kid. But everybody knew about Gaara's powers when he was little. There was no attempt to cover it up. And some people went great lengths to try to obtain Gaara's chakra, which was capable of a defense and jutsu so powerful. Gaara's had his fair share of would-be assassins, but a handful of them were actually kidnappers who wanted his power. Of course, he...took care of them all, so people realized that he was just too strong for them to get their hands on."

"Shikadai, however, is _not_ that strong," Shikamaru grimly said. "He's a twelve-year-old, inexperienced genin who's just awakened one of the most dangerous jutsus in the world. And there's a lot of people who would be more than happy to know that an inexperienced Konoha ninja now possesses Suna's singular most powerful jutsu. It wasn't smart to target Gaara, but what's gonna stop them now?"

"This is what I would like to propose to you, Naruto," Gaara told the Hokage. "To give Shikadai the privilege of secrecy that I was forsaken as a child. Knowledge of Shikadai's new...power, should be spread as thinly as possible. This shall not become public information."

Naruto gulped.

"In the meantime, I suggest you take attentive care of your son's movements," Gaara directed towards Shikamaru and Temari. "He is currently unstable, and, as of yet...unaware...of the developments of his bloodline."

This hadn't occurred to anyone there. "He doesn't know?" Naruto voiced in shock.

"No...his mind is currently... _preoccupied_...with other matters..."

No one spoke, but everybody was thinking of that mystery mission from which Shikadai had just returned. What exactly had happened? The picture they'd been able to paint was blurry at best.

Finally, Naruto let out a long breath. "Keep it a secret, huh? That's gonna be hard...especially for such a flashy jutsu..."

Shikamaru turned to the blonde man with a hard look in his brown eyes. "Say this information did run loose somehow, Naruto. Everyone would know that Shikadai has his uncle's Magnet Release and automatic defense, and then...

"He'd become the single most targeted individual in the world."

The gravity of the statement lingered darkly in the air.

A soft sigh was heard from Gaara. Naruto turned to his friend and was slightly startled to see the heartbreaking melancholy reflecting off his eyes. In a voice barely above a whisper, Gaara muttered, "It seems that it impossible to be truly rid of the darkness of the past. The same poison continues to plague our family's bloodline."

" _Don't say that_ , Gaara!" Temari cried in alarm. "Things are different now; better. Shikadai has people who care for him, _he will be fine_." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "Besides," she continued, offering her brother a small smile, "you can help him with what he's going through. He could really use his uncle's support right now and...Gaara..." Temari hesitated. "Shikadai loves you. He does."

The mention of the word "love" in a room with Gaara was enough to freeze the air in it.

"Love?" Gaara questioned. "I loved Yashamaru too," he mused.

Any trace of a smile was wiped off Temari's face to be replaced by pale, undiluted horror.

It had taken Gaara many years to tell Naruto about Yashamaru. Though his intentions had been revealed to be noble, it did little to diminish the pain felt by the Sand Siblings. Hearing about Gaara's uncle had made Naruto realize to what extent the past haunted the Kazekage.

"Th-that's—this is—different..." Temari stammered in weak protest.

Gaara absently brought a hand up to the engraving of 愛 eternally carved into his forehead. _Would it be different?_

* * *

Sai and Ino Yamanaka were on a mission. They were engaging in the complicated task of spying. Their location? Their own house. They discreetly peeked through the crack in the door at their target of suspicion, who was seated at his desk, bringing lead to life from the tip of his pencil to parchment.

Inojin Yamanaka was an artist, but he was not his father. He did not occupy all his time with the creation of drawings and paintings. He considered his father's and many other greats' masterpieces "old-fashioned", and sometimes, he found the artistic trade, in it of itself, boring. He was not the social butterfly his mother was, either, but he certainly was a frequent of all of Konoha's social destinations (especially the arcade), a fervent listener of gossip, and a skilled instigator of awkward conversation. A teenage butterfly who wanted to escape the claws of his scary mother was what he was, and he enjoyed nothing more than the freedom outside his own home.

"So why has he been holed up in his room binge-drawing ever since breakfast this morning?" Ino asked in dramatic despair. "What if he forgets to come out to eat, or drink, or go to the bathroom or something?" She gasped. " _What_ is he _drawing_? I can't believe he won't show it to us! I'm telling you, he's going to bury himself alive in all those sketches!"

She grabbed her husband's arm urgently. "You're an artist too, Sai! You know what to do, right? I mean, drawing is good for him but this is such a sudden obsession it's scaring me! Do something about it, he's your son!"

 _And yours too_ , Sai refrained from saying. In all honesty, though, Sai was just as worried as his overdramatic wife. Sai and Ino had endured many a headache trying to get Inojin to show more interest in art than in video games, and now, it would appear as though Inojin had spontaneously become interested in creating his own extensive art collection, if not the for the urgent, pressing, frenzied strokes with which he pressed his pen onto paper after paper after paper. _Hello to a new headache._

"Yes, he's been acting awfully odd." Sai picked his words carefully.

"Tell me about it! First all that funny business with his mission, and now this! I swear I can't stand this kid anymore!"

"Could this have anything to do with what happened on his mission?" Sai asked for the sake of asking, since the answer was clearly _yes_.

"Yes, I'm sure it does. I can't believe he won't tell me what happened! I'm his _mother_ , for crying out loud!" She paused, then narrowed her crystalline eyes at her husband. "He didn't tell _you_ anything, did he?"

"Nope."

Ino crossed her arms and sighed. "Well, it's not unlike this crazy kid to keep secrets from us. I seriously don't know what's going on through his head sometimes!...but I talked to Chouji and Karui and they said Chouchou won't say a peep about it either! Chouchou! Happy, talkative Chouchou Akimichi! Now isn't _that_ weird? And I haven't even heard from Mirai..."

Sai contemplated this for several moments. "Shikadai Nara has something to do with this."

"Clearly." She sighed again. "Shikamaru's son really is something else, isn't he? I mean, on the outside, he's just like his dad, but I know him better than he thinks. He's a lot more complicated on the inside. I'd like to say he's like his mom, but he's different from Temari too. It's hard to explain."

Ino pinched the bridge of her nose. "And Gaara..."

The thoughts of the Yamanaka couple went to the man who had saved their son's life.

"Oh God, I'm so embarrassed. Gaara just had to us this huge favor after we showed him some really icky hospitality, didn't he? I don't hate him, he's just so...scary. How the Naras stand him, I'll never know. But we treated him really badly that day, didn't we?"

"Like scum," Sai cheerfully affirmed, earning him a slap on the back of the head. Sometimes Sai was just as whipped as Shikamaru.

Ino and Sai continued to secretly watch their agitated son abuse his drawing pad for a few more moments, until the silence was interrupted by the snapping of fingers. "Aha!" Ino cried. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

"What?"

"Gathering intelligence is my specialty! I just never thought to use it on Inojin before! All I have to do is use my Mind Body Switch Technique and I can find out all his secrets—I mean, everything that happened on that mission!"

"He'd hate you for it," Sai stated plainly.

"Who do you take me for? I'm the Head of the Yamanaka Clan, Sai! Messing with people's minds is my specialty! I can get into Inojin's head and move things around so it's exactly as it was before I went in there and he'll never suspect a thing!" She bounced about. "This is the perfect opportunity!"

"It's an invasion of his privacy—"

Ino shot Sai a look that told him that privacy was the least of her worries. Ino had never been a very private person.

"All right, honey, catch my body after I do the technique, 'kay?"

"Okay."

Ino framed her fingers around Inojin's unsuspecting form. "Mind Body Switch Technique!"

As Ino entered her son's mind, Inojin's body jolted upward.

 _Thump_.

"Sai!" Said man found it slightly disturbing to be scolded by his wife from his son's body. "I thought you said you would catch me!"

"I did say that," Sai explained. "But I found it fascinating to watch the forces of gravity act upon your unconscious body."

Ino mentally facepalmed. _Why did I marry this man?_ _Oh right, because he can be awfully romantic when he wants to. Keywords being_ when _he wants to_.

"Have fun fucking our son's brain!"

Ino blanched at her husband's choice of vocabulary.

"Shut up!" she growled.

Sai watched with interest as a myriad of emotions were displayed on Inojin's normally reserved face. However, he grew increasingly concerned as Inojin's pale skin only turned paler and his blue eyes wider and wider with Ino's dread.

"S-sai—" Ino breathed out.

"Gorgeous?" Sai asked as gently as possible.

"I'm just finishing—finishing up here. Take my body and find Naruto and Shikamaru. Quickly. Once I finish looking at all of this I'll return to my own body."

"Is it bad?" He didn't really need an answer. The tone of Ino's voice said it all.

Ino nodded Inojin's head. "Just go. Today's Five Kage Summit session should have ended right about now. They should be in Naruto's office. I'll catch up with you."

In wordless affirmation, Sai scooped Ino up into his arms and moved out of Inojin's room. While on his way to the Hokage Tower, he took the opportunity to brush the blonde hair out of his wife's face and admire her unparalleled beauty.

The pale man walked into Naruto's office and found the Hokage, Kazekage, Shikamaru, and Temari all congregated there. The first three had just retired from the Five Kage Summit, and Temari had gone to meet them after its finish. The four had much to discuss.

"Dickless. Lazy. Ponytails," Sai acknowledged seriously.

"Sai?!" Naruto greeted in surprise. "Oi, why doesn't Gaara get a ridiculous nickname? And how many times do have to tell you that I _do_ have a—a—you know! And why does Ino look dead?"

Naruto went unanswered.

"What's up, Sai?" Shikamaru asked his teammate's husband tiredly.

"Ino is mind-fucking Inojin right now. She wanted me to bring her here so she can tell you all about it when she wakes up."

Four pairs of eyes blinked at Sai's disturbing-at-more-than-one-level statement. Said man found nothing particularly disturbing.

"U-uh, okay?" Naruto squeaked. "That's...um, nice?"

Then it clicked for Shikamaru—he was well familiar with his teammate's techniques. "She's trying to figure out what happened." The intelligent man cursed himself for not thinking of approaching the bossy woman for help earlier.

"Correct."

As if on cue, Ino's eyes fluttered open and she quickly let herself down from her position in Sai's arms. Her husband half-expected a mushy kiss like the ones he got every morning, but nothing of the sort happened.

Ino observed her surroundings in an uncharacteristically quiet manner and looked around at the room's other occupants. She even managed to meet Gaara's eyes evenly, but she settled on focusing on Shikamaru.

"Get ready, you guys. I have a lot to tell you."

* * *

 _Lies. Deception. Trickery. Trust. Betrayal. Hatred. Fear. Realization. Epiphany. Change. Change. Change..._

The whitewashed ceiling of the hospital room was making him sick. He looked down at his bed covers: _white_. The walls to the right, left, front, and back of him: _white_ , _white_ , _white_ , and _white_. The floor: _white_. The drawn window curtains: _white_. Even the damn door caging him inside of this place: _white_.

Shikadai pulled the black locks of his hair and glared at the bland color that had itself his new enemy by consuming all aspects of his room.

 _They're mocking you_...said the inner voice. _The whitewashed walls of this hospital, they're mocking you...because your life, it's nothing like them._

The whitewashed walls were plain and simple...and _white_ , and they displayed all in their bland glory everything they had to offer the world: nothing. They had nothing to offer the world on their blank surfaces, and this fact was covered up and concealed by nothing.

 _I don't think so..._ Shikadai argued back. _These walls of this hospital...they're blank but it doesn't show you what truly goes on inside them, does it? The unstained whiteness doesn't represent all the blood, sickness, and death that go on in this place at all._

Wanton laughter bounced off the walls in his head for an answer. Shikadai suppressed shivering at the sound. _You just don't get it, do you? That crap doesn't matter, what matters is that you'll never be like anything or anyone else. We're on our own..._

 _I never signed up for your troublesome insight!_ Shikadai grumbled back.

"Shikadai, you have visitors!"

"Crap."

Only when Aunt Sakura sent him a disapproving look did Shikadai realize he'd said that out loud. Oh well, not like he cared anyway.

The door opened to reveal Boruto Uzumaki, who bounded into the hospital room like he owned it, closely followed by Himawari and their mother, Hinata.

"Hey—buddy!" cried the blonde boy, skipping to his friend's bedside. Shikadai felt a little self-conscious as the Hokage's son examined him curiously. "Is that really you—Shikadai! Oh my god, do you know how long I've waited to see you without your ponytail! He, he! My heart's desire has finally been satisfied and I can die in peace!"

"What a pointless wish to die for."

"Hi Big Brother Shikadai!" called out a young voice. Shikadai turned to see Boruto's younger sister with a bunch of sunflowers in her hand. "We heard you were sick so I brought you these to make you feel better!"

They'd also been told not to attempt to touch the Nara boy and to forgive him if he said anything...out of place. Still, the Uzumaki family's mannerisms betrayed the fact that they were aware of Shikadai's strange behavior as of late. It was what made them so likeable.

"Hello, Shikadai," Aunt Hinata greeted kindly. She took the sunflowers from Himawari's hand and placed them in a vase—she must have brought it with her—on the table beside Shikadai's bed, removing the need for Shikadai to receive them. "How are you doing?"

Shikadai looked away, not feeling the need, or desire, to answer that.

"I hope you're doing okay, pal," Boruto piped. "I mean, as okay as you can get being stuck here in this boring hospital. I'd go psycho!"

 _If only you knew._

"But I suppose that's okay with you. I mean, you're pretty happy with doing nothin', right? You get to sleep here all day..."

Shikadai calmly shook his head. "I've had company," he informed Boruto. Rather unorthodox company, in the form of dead people and his own voice screaming inside his head.

"Huh? Who? Your parents come to visit you?"

Shikadai blinked. "No, I haven't seen my parents yet." He'd only just realized that and vaguely wondered how Shikamaru Nara and Temari were faring. "But my uncle's been here."

"Hmm? The Kazekage?" Boruto's blue eyes brightened. "Speaking of him—I'm jealous of you, you know! It's cool to have your uncle interrupt a Five Kage Summit just for you! I wish I was the Kazekage's nephew too!"

Shikadai blinked again. This was news to him. Uncle Gaara had...done that for him? He felt something tug at his chest, but he looked down and saw nothing.

"I wish Dad would stop a meeting just for me," Boruto said dreamily, before pouting. "But he'd probably just use one of his stupid shadow clones."

Boruto made himself comfortable in a chair and continued to rattle away. Soon, his voice became a comfortable drone that Shikadai found himself not minding. Sure, Boruto could be annoying and arrogant, but the sound of his voice was something _real_ that he could cling onto, unlike the tiny voice still bugging him in the back of his head. Shikadai closed his eyes and leaned back onto his pillow, taking care of wounded side and trying to relax. Words melded into music, and Shikadai no longer took notice of the meaning of anything the Uzumaki said.

"...And then Dad was all like...and Mom said...hey Shikadai, can't you at least _pretend_ to listen? You're being unusually quiet, usually you'd at least tell me to shut up and stop being so troublesome."

Shikadai slowly cracked his eyes open again and directed a glare at Boruto. He had no desire for the conversation to be directed back towards himself, and gave Boruto a look that commanded him to _just keep talking_. Unfortunately, the meaning of his gaze was lost on the blonde-haired boy, who simply returned Shikadai with an odd look.

Hinata took the opportunity to speak. "Shikadai, are you in any pain?"

Pain? Shikadai thought. He directed his attention to his own body and was greeted by a pulsing sensation in his bandaged side. He nodded absently.

"Poor Big Brother!" Himawari exclaimed.

The look in Boruto's eyes changed. "You could've told us. Why didn't you say so?" he asked softly.

The Nara boy shrugged. "It's no big deal. I just noticed."

Boruto's face was utterly confused and Himawari opened her mouth to ask how Shikadai could have just noticed he was hurting, but her mother placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Um...there are some medicinal recipes...from the Hyuga Clan," Aunt Hinata began. "I made you some traditional healing soup. We all hope you feel better soon."

She set a small canister down on the table and took out a small bowl, into which she poured a clear soup from the container. Smiling, she handed it to Shikadai, who accepted it wordlessly.

 _Don't be so trusting, Shikadai...let's not forget what happened to Chouchou. It could be poisoned..._

 _Shut up_ , Shikadai snapped back at the inner voice that sounded like his own.

Shikadai realized that Aunt Hinata, Himawari, and Boruto inadvertently reminded him of Uncle Naruto. _"...You saved my soul," Uncle Gaara told Naruto._ Try as he might, Shikadai could not find himself feeling suspicious of the family of Uncle Gaara's _savior_.

"Have you been feeling any better at all, Shikadai?" Hinata inquired kindly.

Shikadai took a sip of the steaming soup. It was surprisingly good. "No."

Boruto grimaced.

"Is there anything we could, um...do to help?"

"No."

Three pairs of eyes watched Shikadai intently. He again tried to muster up some negative emotion—annoyance at their prying?—against the Uzumakis, but failed.

 _Their eyes_...Shikadai thought, void of the inner voice's commentary... _they're honest, and they don't show any pity. Just sympathy and understanding. And the thing is, they actually_ do _understand. Other people try to understand, or pretend to understand, but not them. The Uzumakis are smarter than you'd think. They're not optimistic and kind to everyone because they're naive. They are because they want to. And because they understand._

Shikadai decided to change his answer. "You already have," he told Aunt Hinata. He gestured to the bowl of soup. "You see, I'm not dead yet."

"Huh?" Innocent little Himawari was clearly lost on this conversation, but Boruto's eyebrows scrunched at his friend's cryptic words.

Hinata's pale eyes were full of concern as she gazed at Shikadai.

In a spontaneous moment of generosity, Shikadai found himself explaining. "I don't hate you," he imparted wholeheartedly. He turned to face Boruto. "Any of the three of you, or your dad." He paused in thought. "The alliance of Konoha and Suna lies between our families, and from it I was born. So you've already given me life...and a home. You're just like everyone else, but somehow you're better. Our bonds are untainted because of who you are. If you—all of you—promise never to change, I will treasure our bonds forever."

Shikadai smiled at the Hokage's family. "It's troublesome that facts were made to change, and promises made to be broken. But for now, I thank you for the present."

Shikadai felt as if a burden had been taken away. The Uzumaki family's visit had, to a lesser but some extent, tamed his mind and heart in the similar, inexplicable way Uncle Gaara had as well. Oblivious to the three others' reaction to his little "speech", he closed his eyes and leaned back onto his pillow, feeling satisfied.

Shikadai's words were soon proven correct when change again stopped by to tousle with his emotions, blowing away his satisfaction along with the Uzumakis' departure.

Of all the people to come visit him next, Shikadai never would have guessed the former Hokage Kakashi Hatake, although Shikadai doubted that whatever winds had blown the masked man his way were of concern.

There was silence for several seconds. Then, the only visible part of Kakashi's face—his eyes—curved into two slits. "Well, hello."

While Shikadai could care less what the masked man was doing standing idly at his doorway, he did not appreciate being observed and spoken to like a curious zoo animal, the way Kakashi now suggested with the manner of his scrutinizing.

"Sit, or leave," Shikadai commanded, in a tone that eliminated the notion that his request was one of hospitality.

Two silver eyebrows raised in a manner that Shikadai found to be judgmental and infuriating.

"People usually treat me with too much respect anyway, so I suppose I find your behavior somewhat refreshing." Shikadai looked away as the Sixth Hokage traipsed leisurely to the chair next to his bed. He felt his patience levels fluctuate as Kakashi simply stood there, next to the chair, refusing to sit down. "Hmm? What's this?"

Shikadai looked back at Kakashi and saw the man gazing down at a sandy-gold hourglass.

Then Kakashi picked it up off the chair and turned it over in his hands, looking at what was now Shikadai's most prized possession as if it were a mere trifle.

 _He's. Touching. My. Hourglass...!_

In a combustive turnaround from his dispassionate behavior, Shikadai screamed, "GIVE THAT BACK!"

Kakashi cocked his head at the boy but appeared unsurprised at his outburst. "Possessive," he commented coolly as Shikadai snatched the hourglass away and turned it over several times, inspecting the glass for damage, all the while the trickling and sand and gold ran undisturbed inside of it.

Shikadai ignored him, and Kakashi proceeded to do the same to Shikadai, making himself comfortable on the chair that _Uncle Gaara sat in yesterday night_ , Shikadai noted with vexation. The man swiftly took out a neon orange book from his pocket and glued his eyes to its pages. Shikadai wondered why Kakashi had bothered coming if all he was going to do was sit in his hospital room and read porn.

The awkward silence stretched on for several minutes, during which Kakashi continued to read porn and Shikadai's thoughts simmered in his brain.

Finally, Shikadai's contemplations were brought to a boil. "Secrets," he said out loud.

It took several seconds for Kakashi to peel his eyes away from his book. "Hmm?"

"Secrets," Shikadai repeated. "What do you think of them?"

Kakashi shrugged. "What's there to think about them? Everybody has them."

"Is it wrong?"

"To have secrets?" _What odd questions. I wonder what he's getting at_. "That's debatable. However, I'm going to go ahead and say no, since it'd make me a hypocrite to say yes." He tugged at his mask.

Shikadai stared at him unnervingly. "You have secrets..."

"You could say so," Kakashi answered carefully. _Obvious understatement_. There was probably no person with more secrets than Kakashi.

Kakashi had noticed the black rings around Shikadai's eyes the moment he'd stepped into the room, but the way the teal eyes stared at him reminded the Sixth Hokage of one of those intense meetings he'd had with the Fifth Kazekage. Kakashi mentally gave the Nara boy some credit; it took a lot to ruffle the feathers of the likes of Kakashi Hatake, even if it was in secret.

"But...! Are they your own secrets?"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I understand...?"

Shikadai's hands rose to his head and he fisted his black locks in frustration. Glaring at Kakashi, he repeated, "The secrets. The secrets. Are they your own?...or do they belong to someone else...?"

Kakashi merely continued to observe Shikadai, remaining silent. _So this is the weird behavior I've been hearing about...well, if anything, the kid seems to have grown strangely introspective. And suspicious. A little like Sasuke, if I'm not mistaken._

"When you keep someone else's secrets, you're forcing them to live a lie. When you own a secret that belongs to another person, it's the same thing as owning a part of that person himself. No one wants to be owned. No one deserves that. So is that wrong?" Shikadai asked urgently.

 _He's not answering, because even though he knows it's wrong, he still does keep other people's secrets,_ the inner voice whispered into Shikadai's head.

Shikadai's eyes snapped open."YOU HAVE MY SECRETS!" Shikadai screamed. Kakashi's eyes widened, though he did not flinch. "THEY BELONG TO _ME_! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP THEM FROM ME?"

The Nara boy panted breathlessly. "My existence doesn't belong to anybody else but me. The secrets are a curse and they run through common blood of my family. You're just a thief, hiding behind that mask. You want to keep my secrets from me. GIVE THEM BACK!"

Shikadai threw the white bed covers off of himself and lunged at Kakashi, but the masked man flickered to the other side of the room and Shikadai crashed into an empty chair. "DON'T TRY TO RUN AWAY—argh—"

The rapid movement sent waves of pain coursing through Shikadai's veins from his bandaged wound. He knelt on the ground and clutched his body, but after several seconds grit his teeth and snarled at the impassive-looking Sixth Hokage.

"You shouldn't agitate your wounds," Kakashi recommended wisely.

With a growl, Shikadai grabbed for the object nearest to him and chucked it at the masked man's head with all his might.

 _CLANG_

Kakashi vanished in a puff of smoke. Aunt Hinata's soup canister rattled loudly off of the wall, spraying it with its steaming contents.

Shikadai's eyes watched the clear liquid roll off the white wall and the steam rise up and away into the air.

"Spilled!" he hollered. Suddenly, he threw his head back into uncontrollable laughter. "Spilled!" He pointed at the empty place where Kakashi had been standing. "I'll spill all of your secrets one day, I promise!"

There was a creaking of the door. "Shikadai? You've got more—WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

Shikadai stifled his laughter and met Aunt Sakura's emerald gaze. He cocked his head and pointed at the wall. "A spill," he answered.

An unfocused grin remained on Shikadai's face as the medic-nin marched over and dragged him up. "Why are you on the floor?"

Shikadai winced at Aunt Sakura's harsh grip on his arm. "Ouch, troublesome woman," he muttered. "The floor suddenly seemed terribly attractive. That's all." He righted the chair, which had toppled over when he crashed into it, and sat himself down.

Sakura crossed her arms and shook her head in disapproval. "You know, for someone who's always complaining about how _troublesome_ everything is, _you_ , young man, have been giving _me_ a lot of trouble! Your mother is finding out about this!"

To Sakura's disappointment, mention of Temari did not seem to affect her son in the slightest.

"Shikamaru and Temari _so_ owe me for this one," the pink-haired lady mumbled. " _Behave_ ," she ordered Shikadai sternly, who rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving you to your guests."

Shikadai's smirk disappeared. He could feel the dread creeping up his chest as turned to face the newcomers.

He flinched.

"SHIKADAI, my youthful friend!" The younger Lee had his hands clasped and tears of joy streaming down his face, and his father was in a similar position behind him. "It is so good to see you well and recovering! My dad and I have come to visit you in hopes of bringing you the spirit of joy and recovery!"

 _The only thing you're bringing to me is the insane asylum._

"We were saddened to hear about your incapacitation!" Metal Lee's father exclaimed. "But you appear to be doing well! It makes my heart leap with optimism!"

A look of nostalgia entered the two round eyes. "I know what it feels like to be recovering in a hospital! I once had an unfortunate experience that left me in this hospital! I thought my ninja career was over! It was most terrifying! But through the power of perseverance, I managed to make it through! I have no doubt you will pull through as well, my young friend!"

Shikadai vaguely wondered, but didn't bother to ask, what freak accident could have landed the nearly undefeatable Rock Lee in the hospital to the point it threatened his ninja career.

The two Lees' passionate eyes unblinkingly met the dispassionate Nara's for several heat-filled moments. In the manner of spontaneity that the Lee family was infamous for, Metal and Rock Lee made Shikadai's hospital room their personal gynasium, enthusiastically beginning their routines, with Metal Lee running circles around the room and Rock Lee pumping rapid, one-armed push-ups on the ground before Shikadai, making a ridiculous impression of a green-clothed servant speedily genuflecting before seated royalty.

"We shall" _pant pant_ "make this" _pant pant_ "room" _pant pant_ "brim with" _pant pant_ "the energy of" _pant pant_ "YOUTH!" _pant pant_ panted Metal Lee to a Shikadai still frozen with bemusement.

"Can you feel the power of youth stirring in here? It is so great, you will get better in no time!" Rock Lee enthusiastically proclaimed.

Shikadai moaned, head falling into his hands. Without looking up (had he, he would have seen a disturbing sight), he trudged heavily back to his bed and heaved himself onto it.

The Lees were still rattling nonsensical words into his ears, but the sound, albeit as loud and rambunctious as Boruto's, was an intrusive buzz rather than a calming drone. Shikadai could feel his nerves jumping erratically every time he heard a hollered "YOUTH!"

The Lees didn't pity him—but neither did they understand, unlike the Uzumakis. Shikadai found nothing but oblivion in their eyes, even if everything was so _obvious_.

The Lees certainly were energetic. They were burning a tank of oil that would soon explode.

Shikadai moaned once again into his hands.

"Shikadai, how are you do—"

" _Shut up._ "

The vicious tone was enough to pause the Metal Lee's intense regimen. The green-clad boy and his father stood and blinked obliviously. "I am sorry Shikadai, I am not sure what you said—"

Shikadai sprang up onto the bed with his fists clenched tightly by his sides. With the lethal expression he wore, he was able to make his gown-clad, scrawny figure loom threateningly as he stood on the hospital bed, casting the room in the darkness of his shadow. "You know what the fuck I just said. Shut! Up!"

Metal Lee's eyes widened comically and he sucked in his breath loudly. "What did you just say?" he asked, sounding offended.

"Just STOP THAT!" Shikadai exasperatedly ground out. "It's all so obvious, so obvious!"

"What is so obvious?"

Shikadai threw his hands up in the air. " _That_!" He looked at Metal Lee dead in the eye with no hesitation. "The fact that you're just two _ridiculous losers_."

The words triggered a memory in Rock Lee's mind. Little did Shikadai know that his own uncle had once used similar words to insult the bowl-cut haired man once upon a time.

Metal Lee gasped. " _What_ did you say?"

Shikadai glared at Lee as if he bore all the problems in the world. "Who are you?"

Two pairs of eyes blinked at him. "Shikadai, allow me to interject!" interjected Rock Lee. "Are you saying that after knowing us for twelve years of your life you have no idea who we are?"

Shikadai rolled his eyes. "Of course I know who you are. That's the troublesome part. Since when in the past ten-something years have you ever had to figure out who you were?"

"I have always known who I am! I am Metal Lee, and this of course is my dad, Rock Lee, and we are Konoha's esteemed—"

"As if I need reminding." Shikadai addressed the both of them. "Everything's always been laid out in black-and-white for you. Since the day you were born, have you ever had to figure out your identity? You're just...you. Members of Konoha's Lee clan. You were _born_ normal. Nature was kind to you when you were born! It didn't leave you any troublesome surprises, did it? You weren't even born with ninjutsu or genjutsu—just normal, Konoha citizens! _Normal human beings_!

Rock Lee argued back, "It is true that I have no ninjutsu! Or genjutsu! That is why I depended on my own strength to create my own ninja way! As the world's greatest taijutsu master!"

"That's why seeing you makes me want to kill something!"

Rock Lee and Metal Lee both gasped in horror. "Shikadai! How could you say that? That is not very youthful!"

"Do you know how many people were born... _defective_? _Cursed_? You guys were born normal and with every truth in the world laid out in front of you! You had everything, and yet you ignored all of it, in favor of doing what? Turning yourselves into fucking freaks of nature? Some weirdoes that nobody likes talking to?

"You're just mocking the people who weren't born with the gift of your... _normalcy_. Do you really think you're doing something heroic? Taijutsu master my _ass_! I don't care about that! No one gives a _shit_ about that! You've made freaks out of yourselves and you're _still_ too blind to see that nobody even _likes_ you."

Metal Lee sprung his feet. "I am sorry, but by insulting me and my dad and most importantly, our ninja way, you have crossed the line! You have breached our youthful relationship! There is only one way to resolve this!" He paused dramatically. "A fight!"

With fire burning in his eyes, Metal Lee declared, "Shikadai Nara, from henceforth, you shall be my rival! I challenge you to a fight! It shall be a contest of wills and a battle of strength!"

"I admire your dedication, my son! However, you must have honor and wait until your opponent is at his full strength! It would not be youthful to combat him now!"

"I understand, Dad! I will wait until Shikadai has fully recovered! But do not worry, this has yet to be settled!"

Metal Lee turned back to Shikadai. "I promise you, once you have been released from this hospital, we will meet on the battlefield to see whose ninja way prevails!"

Metal Lee waited enthusiastically for his new rival's response.

"You want a fight, huh? Looks like I don't really get a say in this, do I?" Shikadai folded his arms over his chest. "Hmph. Well, if you're so eager to try to kill me, then I have no problem returning the sentiment."

"You misunderstand! I have no desire to kill you! But in order to redeem ourselves we must meet in battle!"

Metal Lee's rhetoric fell on deaf ears thereafter.

Once upon a time, Asuma Sarutobi's universal remedy for all the problems that befell his lazy pupil Shikamaru Nara was a game of shogi. For his student, the placing of shogi pieces into their positions on the board somehow was enough to right any disarray of dilemmas.

After Asuma's passing, Kurenai Yuhi had strived hard to keep the shogi tradition between her lover and his Nara student alive. Kurenai was a smart woman, but she was no Asuma at the game, and it was futile for her to even think of defeating Shikamaru. Still, the two of them engaged in the protection of their respective kings on the shogi board. Since peace had befallen the ninja world after the Fourth Great Shinobi War, their games had been held more for the sake of memory than for the sake of playing.

But today, Shikadai Nara apparently was actually in a serious dilemma, and Kurenai found herself hoping to transcend the boundaries of the generations, and to approach Shikadai the way her late lover would have Shikadai's father: through shogi, and in the process, relive the memories between the Sarutobi sensei and Nara student.

But while Kurenai was an appropriate stand-in for the Asuma, she quickly learned that Shikadai was no replacement for Shikamaru Nara in the reliving of the tradition. There was no memory to recreate. Shikadai was there to _create_ new memories. And none too pleasant ones, at that.

At the door outside Shikadai's hospital room, Kurenai found herself gulping and taking deep breaths. _There's nothing to worry about. You've known the boy since he was a baby. You practically watched his_ dad _grow_ _up since_ he _was a baby._

Still, it was that same child that had managed to unnerve Kurenai's fearless daughter to the point of not eating. And Kurenai was pretty shaken herself.

She stepped inside. She smiled at Shikadai, who sat cross-legged on the bed and stared straight at her, as if he had known she was outside and had been waiting for her to enter. "Hello, Shikadai," she greeted lamely.

Kurenai was a strong jounin kunoichi, but she found herself fidgeting under the scrutiny of the young genin.

 _Hello? How boring and unoriginal. Is that the only thing people know how to say? Well, let's spice things up a bit._

Kurenai suppressed a shiver when she witnessed Shikadai smirk at her coldly. "Goodbye," he greeted back, observing Kurenai's reaction and unsurprised at her look of confusion.

Kurenai blew out air from her mouth. "Right." She cleared her throat. "I supposed you might want to get your mind off...things, so I brought this." She set down a wooden shogi board on the table.

Shikadai said nothing, so Kurenai took out the shogi pieces and started arranging them on the board. Only when she was setting the last pieces did the boy speak up. Slightly startled, Kurenai turned to look at him, and immediately noticed a foreign glint in his eyes.

"A game, huh?" Shikadai seemed to toss the idea around in her head. "Okay, let's do this."

Kurenai sat down at the side of the board opposite Shikadai as she had many times in her life before, but she could sense something was different from the... _possessive_ nature Shikadai eyed each and every one of his pieces.

The battle began, and despite the many times Kurenai and Shikadai had played this game together, Kurenai could not feel as if she were up against a new, unfamiliar, and dangerous opponent this time. _Yes. Something's definitely different. Definitely wrong._

Sacrifice was an undesirable but inevitable component of every war, and this one was no different. No one understood better than the Naras that sacrificing pieces in a shogi game could _appear_ reckless but ultimately be the trump card to victory. Shikadai's oft-used strategy was that of luring his opponent into a sense of false security by allowing him or her to eat many of his own pieces and misleading him or her into thinking they had the upper hand...before he struck with one crucial piece.

But in real life, sometimes even one pawn was too much to sacrifice.

Shikadai's eyes were glued to his side of the board—or, rather, flitting nervously between each and every one of his little wooden pieces, as if afraid that tearing his eyes away from any one of them might risk them disappearing from right under his nose. Kurenai was making daring leaps and jumps across the board, while Shikadai moved in small steps, as if afraid of entering Kurenai's side of the board and potentially having to sacrifice one of his pieces.

But a shogi board was only so large, and it was only a matter of time before the two players' pieces came into close contact with one another and blood was "shed" on the shogi battlefield.

Kurenai watched Shikadai closely with her red, ringed eyes—which went unnoticed by the boy who was too busying focusing on the game before him. She wanted to tell him not to take a mere game so seriously, but had a gut feeling that that would be the wrong thing to say.

The kunoichi was never one to go easy on her opponents in any way—she was a shinobi, after all, and "going easy" was unaffordable. Nevertheless, Kurenai found herself deliberately avoiding capturing Shikadai's pieces, for the amount of apparent alarm reflecting off the Nara heir's eyes escalated dramatically every time she made a move.

Finally, however, there were no more ways to run. While Shikadai had already captured some of Kurenai's pieces, Kurenai had yet to do so to Shikadai. However, there was no alternative for her next move: the two sides had come too close together, and there was no move she could take that could avoid the capture of one of Shikadai's pieces.

Tentatively, she lifted on of her pawns and replaced one of Shikadai's with it. Trying to act natural, she chuckled and teased, "Gotcha—"

Before she even had the chance to blink, the shogi board had vanished from her vision.

Only several seconds after it had happened did she comprehend the loud _CLATTER_ that followed.

The board spun across the floor, and wooden shogi pieces rained loudly from the table.

Kurenai whipped her head around the Shikadai with a look of horror in her widening crimson eyes.

"Shikadai—"

The boy was on his feet, towering over her, the rings around his eyes closer and more pronounced than ever. Kurenai was promptly silenced, the notion that _she_ was actually _his_ superior wiped cleanly from her brain.

"Of all people, I thought _you_ might be different," he growled through clenched teeth. "You planned this from the very beginning, didn't you?"

"Shikadai, I didn't—"

"You're just like the rest of them! All trying to destroy me, to bring me down!"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Get out!" he screamed in her face. " _Get out_!"

A loud ringing from inside his head was the only sound that graced his ears for minutes after the door closed behind a shocked, fleeing Kurenai. He looked down and kicked the shogi board across the room, the sight of it reminding him of how closely he had come to losing...and how all could be lost if he lost his game.

Fragments of the hushed conversation from outside his door drifted through the walls of his room.

"...worried...acting very unusual..."

"We understand your concern..."

"Will he be...alright...?"

"...doing everything in our power..."

"...believe it's a...severe case of...post-traumatic stress..."

"...no place better than...Konoha's hospital...recovery...may take some time..."

"...but he'll definitely be back to normal."

It was a world where all truths were lies and all lies were the truth. That made Shikadai wonder: for all those years, had he been living a lie, or the truth after all?

" _...but he'll definitely be back to normal_." Shikadai snorted.

 _There's no normal to go back to, is there?_ the inner voice sighed.

 _I know that_ , he spat back.

 _What defines normal when everything is defined by deception? I dare say you're getting so many 'welcome' visitors today on account of the fact that they love the old Shikadai Nara._

The old Shikadai Nara _._ The one who watched clouds, lazed around, and spoke semi-disrespectfully to his elders. The teammate of Inojin Yamanaka and Chouchou Akimichi.

Teal eyes fell upon the door for a split second in longing of the sight of a pale, blonde-haired boy and a dark-skinned girl entering in their familiar manner to wish their best friend well. But the second soon passed, and the blonde boy and brown-haired girl were suddenly strangers, and the longing in his heart was dead. It belonged to another person: the old Shikadai Nara. _Whatever happened to him?_

 _I think you killed him_ , the inner voice answered. _You look just like him, so all those idiots were fooled. Inojin and Chouchou know better than to think the two of you were the same person, though, don't you think?_

The inner voice continued. _But I think it's more accurate to say you created the old Shikadai Nara. He didn't belong to reality, so technically...he never existed._

* * *

"And so...that's what happened on Inojin's mission," Ino finished.

Silence engulfed the Hokage office for a while. None of its occupants were strangers to extreme violence, but the fact that Shikadai Nara, the most undedicated of their young shinobi, was the involved party, was disconcerting.

Ino looked at Shikamaru and Temari. They looked shell-shocked and strangely...broken. "Shikamaru, Temari...I'm sorry." She turned to Shikadai's uncle, lips parted to acknowledge him as well, but she closed her mouth awkwardly when she noticed that Gaara had his eyes closed, seemingly deep in thought (but unsurprised).

"That bastard!" Naruto yelled. "Ryomen! I trusted him-I thought he was such a nice guy! I can't believe he did that. Serves the asshole right, what happened to him. I mean, what right did he have to do that just because Gaara-"

Naruto stopped mid-sentence, suddenly glancing worriedly at his friend. The topic of Gaara's past was a difficult one to breach, even now. It seemed that, even though there was no one who wanted to move on from the past more than the Kazekage, history never came back to haunt anyone more than him.

Then Temari stalked to the Hokage chair, shoved Naruto off of it, gaining half-hearted protests from the man. She nsat herself down, burying her head in her hands.

Shikamaru mirrored her, letting his hand fall in one hand. "Fuck."

Temari nodded in agreement. She lifted her head, teal eyes blazing. "Why? I thought we'd moved on from our past. Why did the guy attack Shikadai? Why couldn't he have...I don't know, come after me?"

"Because you would have kicked his ass," Sai explained. Ino simply walked over to the sandy-blonde Suna woman and wrapped her arms around her comfortingly.

"This is troublesome. So damn troublesome, damn it!" Naruto, having been kicked out of his seat by the women, walked to Shikamaru and patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Hn."

Everyone in the room, save for Gaara, turned their heads to the new voice. Ino was heard gasping.

"Uchiha." Gaara spoke without turning his head to look at the man.

"Gaara."

"S-sasuke!" Ino cried, surprised.

"Ah, it's the traitor! Have you decided to join us?" Sai said. Ino glared at him.

"Oi, oi, bastard! How did ya get in my office without us knowing?"

"Loser," Sasuke acknowledged without tearing his gaze from Gaara's eyes. The red-haired man met Sasuke's Sharingan eyes devoid of fear and any other emotion. The relationship between the two men was...complicated. Things had long since been resolved between Naruto and Sasuke, with Naruto being the main initiator of their reconciliation. As for Sasuke and the Kazekage...former man wasn't quite sure what to think of the ex-psychopath, and no one was ever sure what the latter man ever thought.

Then, without so much as another word, Sasuke turned and began to walk out of the Hokage Office.

"Hey, wait, bastard! That's it? You're just gonna leave? Not so fast, I've still got a mission for ya!"

Sasuke paused. "I know."

"But I haven't even told ya-"

"I heard about what happened to Nara." Sasuke nodded at Ino. "If you're not sending someone to investigate the scene now, then you're an even bigger loser than I thought."

"Hey, I'm no loser, bastard, I'm your Hokage!"

"Are you going there now, Sasuke?" Shikamaru inquired.

"No." Sasuke turned back to the door. "I'm going to the hospital first."

"The hospital? Oooh, can't resist visiting Sakura, can't we?" Naruto whistled.

"I'm not going to see Sakura."

"Huh? Then who-hey, don't tell me you're cheating on her with one of those sexy nurses!"

"Hinata will hear about your sexy nurse comment, Naruto!" Ino accused.

"Loser. Who else is at the hospital right now?"

Naruto scrunched up his nose in thought. "Ah-uh-"

"What do want with my son, Uchiha?" Temari cut across bluntly.

Sasuke was not the type to make idle visits to anyone-hell, he'd gone for nearly ten years without seeing his wife or daughter even once. And now he was going to see Shikadai-the son of two acquantainces he barely spoke with? Odd.

Sasuke shrugged at the Sand Sibling. "I'm curious."

"Curious? Why?" Shikamaru asked.

"Because." Sasuke turned his head to look at Gaara again. He jerked his head in acknowledgement. "He's related to that person."

"Eh? Gaara?"

As Sasuke looked into those pale green eyes, he wondered if Shikadai's would mirror those of a younger Gaara's.

Many people assumed that Gaara and Sasuke were very much alike, which was true. Gaara had once been lost in the darkness, just like Sasuke, and he'd been twenty steps ahead of the Uchiha in trying to destroy Konoha. Hell, Sasuke'd been one of the shinobi _defending_ Konoha during the Konoha Crush.

But Sasuke knew that most people left out one crucial difference. Sasuke himself had once been lost in the darkness, that was true-but he was a human being who had followed the wrong path. As for Gaara, though...

There was no person Sasuke knew with less human qualities than the Kazekage. Other people seemed to live _on_ earth, while Gaara seemed to exist... _with_ the earth. How appropriate that his element and weapon of choice was earth and sand. Gaara hadn't followed the wrong path while he walked the earth; he was a spirit who had been born in the darkness against his will, and for his entire childhood forced to wear the garments of darkness and evil, blinded from the beauty of the world. He'd been seen as an embodiment of all things cruel. That was until the brightness that was Naruto Uzumaki managed to catch his eye. Only then had he gained the courage to shed his black veil that blanketed him from the world's view, and revelaed his true self: as a spirit that embodied light.

Sasuke was rarely the first one to break his gaze with anybody, but he found himself looking away from the sand master's this time, for Gaara also seemed to be able to read one's thoughts by reading their eyes alone...and Sasuke had no desire for Gaara to know that he was thinking of him as some light creature, thank you very much.

"Hn," Sasuke said once more, before he swept from the room.

* * *

"Hey Mom!"

"Sarada! And hello, Mitsuki!"

Mitsuki nodded. "Hi, Mrs. Uchiha."

"I told you just to call me Aunt Sakura!" She exchanged a quick hug with her daughter. "What are the two of you doing here?"

"We're here to visit Shikadai. How is he?"

"Well, he's...um, well...well, I guess. Recovering."

Sakura cleared her throat and changed the subject. "You, on the other hand, young lady! You better have been training hard lately! I won't have my daughter losing to that Boruto!" She chuckled. "Besides, your papa's coming home today. Wouldn't want to disappoint him, would you?"

Sarada made no answer, Sakura frowned at the sudden grin that graced her daughter's face and noticed the look of awe that fell upon Mitsuki's normally cool features.

Suddenly, the sound of a deep voice sounded in her ear. "Hn. Still annoying as ever, hm?"

She spun around. "Sasuke!"

A blush spread across Sakura's cheeks. The feisty woman was easily subdued by a certain dark, handsome man.

"I missed you," she whispered shyly, ignoring his comment.

Sarada was clearly puzzled how Sakura Haruno, of all people, could let anyone get away with calling her _annoying_ , even if that someone was Sasuke Uchiha.

"Papa, don't be mean to Mom!" she defended. "She's not annoying!"

Sakura secretly smiled, while Sasuke stared blankly at his daughter before allowing a small smirk to curl upon his lips. _Sarada's just like her mother._

Sakura started leading the way to Shikadai's room, pulling her husband a few steps ahead of the two children in order to exchange a few words with him.

"I'm guessing that the only reason you'd be here is something Shikadai-related, right?"

"Hn. Had to see for myself."

"It's baffling me, to be honest, Sasuke. Have you heard anything from Gaara or Naruto? I haven't had the chance to talk them, they've been so busy with the Five Kage Summit."

Behind them, Sarada frowned as Sasuke began speaking in hushed tones to Sakura, as if relaying confidential information. She noticed that her father had intentionally hidden his lips from her view, knowing that his daughter could use her Sharingan to read them.

Sasuke and Sakura allowed Sarada and Mitsuki to enter first before they stepped in and stood quietly in the corner of the room.

Shikadai, who sat cross-armed and cross-legged on the messy covers of the bed, seemed to take no heed of their arrival.

Sasuke's observant eyes quickly scanned the room. There was a stain of splattered liquid on one wall, an empty soup canister beneath it, a chair laying on its side, and a shogi board in the middle of the floor, the smaller wooden pieces scattered everywhere.

Sasuke had never spoken directly with Shikadai before, but just from looking at him and the state of disarray of his room, which, according to his wife, he had occupied for less than one conscious day, Sasuke could safely say that there was more Sand Sibling in the young genin than most thought.

Sarada and Mitsuki, both observant, immediately noted the unstable aura Shikadai was emitting from his person, and tensed up.

In due time, heavily ringed, teal eyes travelled upwards and skimmed across the room, appearing wary of its occupants but not surprised.

Shikadai analyzed the obsidian eyes that belonged to his kunoichi friend for a few moments. Sarada suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable under his gaze, and dared a glance at her parents, who were both observing grimly. She was unaware that Shikadai held absolutely no interest in her person, and was more intrigued with the fact that her bespectacled eyes could swirl into a crimson Sharingan at any moment.

 _The Uchiha clan's prized kekkei genkai..._

Shikadai turned to Mitsuki. Gesturing at Sarada, he asked, "What's so great about her anyway?"

Sakura would have jumped in to defend her daughter, but Sasuke held her back with a look that said _just watch for now. Don't do anything rash._

"Eh?" Sarada exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking seriously offended.

Mitsuki snickered, not noticing that Shikadai was entirely serious with not a drop of mirth reflected in his face.

"Her? Hell if I know," he answered. "Try being on the same team as her, she's bossy and annoying with one hell of a temper."

The long-sleeved boy snickered once again at how his Uchiha teammate was turning a deep shade of red.

"Hmph! You and I are quite alike, Sarada Uchiha. So why don't I get any of the attention, pomp and pizzazz, and...admiration and _love_...that you get?"

The words suggested jealously, but the blatant monotone in which Shikadai spoke them suggested otherwise.

Sarada seemed shell-shocked for a moment, and Mitsuki stopped snickering to look at Shikadai oddly.

"What? You and I are nothing alike, Shikadai Nara! For one, you're far too _lazy_."

Shikadai chuckled. "Don't think too much, Sarada Uchiha. It's troublesome and it might destroy your brain cells. And yes, we are, in fact, very alike."

"How, pray tell?"

"What's there to be different about? We're both the heir of our clans. Your uncle killed the whole clan; my uncle killed a bunch of losers. Same difference."

Sakura was unable to hold back her gasp. Itachi Uchiha was a seldom-mentioned topic in the current Uchiha household.

Tears were swimming in Sarada's eyes. "My—my uncle—"

"Heh, heh, sounds to me like both of them were pretty good at doing their job. And they're both kind of taboo subjects, aren't they? Hey, maybe they could've been friends. Oops, too bad yours is dead."

Sakura opened her mouth, but Shikadai beat her to it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say, Aunt Sakura. You're going to yell and scream at me for 'saying such things' and then you'll try to change the subject as soon as possible."

 _So he's still got a keen wit, despite being...slightly crazy_ , Sasuke observed.

Sasuke blinked at Shikamaru's child. "Did I say I wanted something?"

"Please, just because I've changed doesn't mean I'm stupid," Shikadai answered. "You're Sasuke Uchiha, and you only return to Konohagakure in between the intervals of your missions. I hear enough of Sarada's troublesome complaining about how she doesn't get to see you enough. Which means that you're probably on your way to another mission outside the village. I just came back from a mission from outside the village, and you actually took the time to do something as mundane as _see me_ , which means you want something from me before you go on a mission, which is probably to go investigate the site where my mission left off." Shikadai took a breath. "Right?"

Sakura looked at the supposedly lazy Nara boy in surprise. This was the most he'd spoken since arriving in the hospital. It was also a rarity to hear anyone speak to Sasuke so frankly and...rudely, especially children.

"Hn," Sasuke agreed after a while.

"Nobody ever told me the answers to the questions they never told me I was supposed to have," Shikadai snapped. "So go to someone else if there's something you'd like to ask."

Sarada and Mitsuki were looking at each other worriedly.

Sasuke did not reply, but he did not move away, either, instead continuing to stare fixedly at Shikadai.

"What's it like being the lone survivor of a clan that managed to destroy itself?" Shikadai asked in frustration when he got no reply.

"Shikadai!" Sakura started to reprimand, but Sasuke held her back.

Shikadai narrowed his eyes. "At least you were there to see it. At least you didn't find out from some stranger!"

Sarada gasped. Sakura motioned for her daughter and Mitsuki to join her at her side, and she quickly whisked them out of the room.

Sasuke remained, looking unfazed. Had this conversation happened years ago, he no doubt would have gone on a rampage. However, he'd long since come to terms with his past and history.

"Tell me, Mr. Uchiha. You have a lot of friends now, don't you? But even so, don't you feel as if the shadow of the Uchiha past falls solely upon yourself? That it's something you can never escape from?"

 _No_ , Sasuke thought. _The pain of the past was something you could share with your friends. Something you could let go. You'd only fall victim to its trap if you weren't able to stand on equal terms with it._

But curious of what Shikadai had to say, Sasuke merely nodded.

Shikadai's lips curled into a smile. "I'm Shikadai Nara, son of Temari of the Sand and nephew of the Fourth Kazekage," he said. The tone of voice reminded Sasuke of the first time he met Gaara, and the way he'd introduced himself as _Sabaku no Gaara_. "And there, you have my answer."

 _BANG_

Shikadai jumped, starting. All day, his door had been opening and close, admitting and ejecting Aunt Sakura, the nurses, and his pesky visitors.

But this time it had been slammed open.

"All right, Uchiha, your time is up," a woman's voice said smartly. "Now get the hell out of my son's room."

 _Mom_.

The sound of Temari's voice seemed to slap Shikadai awake. It was obvious she was in a bad mood, but that was the least of Shikadai's concerns at the moment. Her brazen voice cut cleanly through the muddle of voices in his head, and he suddenly felt more aware than he had since Uncle Gaara's visit in the night.

Sasuke nodded at Temari, then vanished in a puff of smoke.

Leaving Shikamaru and Temari, standing alone at the doorway.

"M-mom," Shikadai stammered. "Dad." He wondered whether his parents had just witnessed his display towards Sarada, Mitsuki, Sakura, and Sasuke, just moments ago, and for some reason, looked down, shame-faced.

Wordlessly, Shikamaru and Temari entered the room, their son still avoiding their gaze.

"Shikadai," Shikamaru's deep voice sounded out from beside him. "Look at me."

With great effort, Shikadai looked up at his father, who was now sitting beside him. His mother was standing at the other side of his bed.

Shikamaru swallowed when he saw, close-up, the newly minted rims around his son's eyes. So much like his own brother-in-law's. _It really is true..._

Shikamaru placed a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. Shikadai flinched, at first, upon seeing Shikamaru approach, but took a deep breath and allowed his father's hand to settle.

Shikadai chanced a look at his mother, and met her stern teal eyes. "Hey, kid," she greeted. Her voice was characteristically rough, deep, and not very feminine. However, for some reason, the sound of her voice triggered in Shikadai's memory the voice of Karura.

 _They're nothing alike, so why...?_

Shikadai cleared his head of these thoughts, and suddenly came upon a realization: this was his family. Only they were able to see his true self, and not dismiss him as being defective. They loved and accepted him for who he was, loved and accepted his identity, whatever identity he may choose to assume. They were like nobody else.

"Shikadai," Shikamaru pressed gently. "Do you remember what I told you before you left on your mission?"

 _"...don't forget that you have family and comrades waiting for you back home."_

"I meant it, you know. No matter what happens—even if you go to the ends of the earth and back, your friends, your family—your mother and I, and your uncles, will always be waiting for you. And we don't expect anything from you."

Shikadai smiled at his father's words, but then chanced another glance at his mother and noticed a small line creasing between her brows. Uh-oh.

Shikamaru still went on.

"Of course, we raised you to be a shinobi, and that," he said, "is not a particularly easy job. The line between right and wrong can be easily be obscured, you know?"

Shikadai nodded.

"The most important weapon you can have as a shinobi is the teamwork and camaraderie you share with your comrades and friends. They're the ones who will help you find your way through the hard times.

"As a shinobi, there may come times when you'll have to do something you're not so sure about. Do things that you don't want to do. Do things that you might regret."

Shikadai could sense Temari fidgeting.

Shikamaru took a deep breath. "You have to know that these are things that come with job description. Sometimes you just can't help it, and you just have to accept it. You have to sacrifice yourself in certain situations, and sacrificing yourself doesn't always necessarily mean you die.

"I know you pretty damn well, Shikadai, and even though you're just as lazy as I am, you're a good kid with a good heart. You've got good scruples, no thanks to your mother, of course," Shikamaru joked.

No snarky comeback came from Shikamaru's wife. Shikadai yet again glanced at Temari and saw that she was _not amused._

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, you've got to follow what you're heart tells you is most important. And you have to come to terms with what lengths you'll have to go in order to protect what's important to you. So when you do your job as a shinobi, you have to remember that everything you do is for the sake of what you're trying to protect. That may come down to doing things that seem better left undone, or doing things you'd rather not be not be proud of." Shikamaru inwardly reminisced the ruthless manner in which he'd incapacitated Hidan many years ago. "But the only way you'll be able to live with yourself is if you accept that you've just gotta do what you've gotta do for the greater good. Then you'll see that it was worth it."

There was a pregnant pause as Shikadai absorbed this information.

 _What Dad says is reasonable, I suppose—_

"Bullshit."

Shikadai looked up to see Temari, who had now moved to stand next to her husband, glaring daggers at Shikamaru.

Shikamaru quickly got to his feet in order to match his wife's height. " _What_?"

"I said. Bull. _Shit_."

Shikamaru threw his hands up in the air. "What's bullshit?"

"Oh, I'll tell you. The stuff coming out of your mouth when you open it. _That_. Is _bullshit_."

Shikamaru didn't know what to say for several moments and he stared at Temari, flabberghasted. Then, in angrier voice than Shikadai had ever heard his father speak, Shikamaru yelled, "What, Temari? Are you trying to make matters worse?"

"Me, making matters worse? Oh sure, because it's _me_ who's trying to feed our son _poison_."

"What more could you possibly want from me? I'm trying to be a good father here and you tell me I'm giving my son _poison_?"

"Your son? That's right, your son, who spent nine months inside of _me_ ," Temari jabbed a finger into her own chest, "a _Sunagakure_ mother, and you're just going to make him into yet another one of you Konoha weaklings by feeding him with this outrageous ideology!"

"Konoha is not weak, Temari! It's more than I can say for Suna!"

"Oh yeah? And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if Suna's ideology is so much better than Konoha's, explain to me why more than one Suna child ended up fucked up!"

"Explain to me Sasuke Uchiha!"

"Doesn't a man have the right to decide he doesn't want his own kid to end up like—"

Shikamaru stopped himself abruptly, and Shikadai wondered what he was about to say that would've made a look of guilt wash over his features.

Temari stepped one step closer to Shikamaru until they were, in a literal sense, nose to nose. This time, Shikamaru cowered a bit.

"If you were about to say my brother's name," Temari said in a dangerously calm voice. Calm before the storm... "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Shikadai had seen his parents fight before. This was not the first, and he doubted it was the last, time, but it certainly was the _worst_.

 _And it was because of me_ , he realized with numb guilt.

Unsure of what to do, he watched dumbly as his mother raised a clenched fist and prepared to swing it in his father's direction—

Only for both his parents to spring apart from one another to opposite sides of the room like marionettes.

The puppet master was at the doorway.

"What the _hell_ do the two of you think you're _doing_?" Kankuro yelled. "I thought you were better than this. Arguing in front of your own _kid_? At a time like _this_?"

Behind him, Gaara was standing silently with his arms crossed over his chest.

Both Shikamaru and Temari had the decency to look ashamed.

Shikadai gaped at this dramatic turn of family dynamics. He looked to his Uncle Gaara for reassurance.

"Temari. What the hell? That's not the responsible older sister I know," Kankuro chided.

Temari looked away, red-faced.

"As for you..." Kankuro growled at Shikamaru. He marched right over to his brother-in-law and snatched him by the arm. "You're coming with me."

The manhandling shook Shikamaru out of his stupor. "What? Just whose side are you on?"

Kankuro snorted. "Uh, my sister's?"

"But—" Shikamaru protested.

"Listen here, you punk," Kankuro ordered, dragging Shikamaru, much to the man's dismay, across the room. "You see us?" He pointed to Temari, to Gaara, and then to himself. "We're called the Three Sand Siblings. I didn't have you take Temari away from us just for _my_ _nephew_ to be raised as some Konoha pushover. Who the hell cares if you're his father? I'm pretty damn glad I didn't listen to everything _my_ dad told me. If you don't want your son to be taught the Sunagakure way, then you should have thought twice before choosing a Sunagakure Sand Sibling to be his mother!"

Shikamaru looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught the serious look Gaara was giving him, and just like that, he deflated.

Gaara turned on his heel without another word and walked away, although not before sharing one last meaningful look with Shikadai, who was still bemused. Shikamaru allowed himself to be escorted out by Kankuro, who gave a Shikadai a wink over his shoulder before turning to leave as well.

Then it was just Shikadai and a still-seething Temari, mother and son alone together in the drab white hospital room which could not come close to matching the bright colors of their personalities and emotions.

Temari, Shikadai could tell, was still upset over Shikamaru and was willing herself to calm down, her sharp eyes closed and her breaths deep and heavy. With a sigh, she sat down in the chair, bringing herself down to Shikadai's level and allowing the boy to observe his mother more closely.

Shikadai decided to be the one to break the ice. As curious as he was regarding the fiasco that had just transpired-perhaps the most dramatic family event that had happened ever-he supposed it would be best not to mention it. It would not accomplish anything if he were to know what his mother and father were arguing about, or where his two uncles had taken his father. Besides, he had much more pressing matters on his mind.

"So do you think I'm a bad person...Mom?"

Shikadai half-expected, half-dreaded the answer. "Of course," Temari huffed without batting an eye.

Shikadai looked away, feeling crushed by his mother's answer and foolish for feeling crushed.

But Temari opened her brilliant teal eyes again, drawing Shikadai's gaze to them like a magnet. "But if it makes you feel any better, your father, your uncles, and I-all of us-are all bad people too."

This revelation was somewhat riveting in Shikadai's brain.

"I guess you could say it's our fault you're a bad person. We were the ones who brought you into this world, after all, and made you bad. Because, all of humanity is evil."

Shikadai gaped at Temari.

"What your idiot father said-" Temari said this with clenched teeth-"seems to suggest that inate goodness seems to exist within people. And that's just bullshit."

"You've said that three times already," Shikadai pointed out.

"Shut your mouth," Temari ordered. "Anyways, if people were really to go about 'following their heart'...or whatever it was that your father said...and defining what's right by their own terms..."

Temari looked at Shikadai seriously. "You would never have been born."

"What?" a baffled Shikadai asked. "Why?"

"Because I would have spent all my time satisfying myself by slicing people to bloody pieces, your Uncle Kankuro would have used human subjects for various types of poisons and torture instruments, and your Uncle Gaara...well, let's just say there'd be no Sunagakure-Konoha alliance because there'd no longer _be_ a Sunagakure.

"We're bad people, Shikadai," Temari deadpanned. "If you think we're safe people, think again."

Shikadai allowed this notion to sit with him for a while. For some reason, it neither surprised too much nor unnerved him. His mother and uncles, bad or dangerous or not, were still his mother and uncles.

"There isn't a single 'good' human being on earth because humanity is a cursed, corrupted, race. There are two kinds of people, Shikadai. Bad people, and worse people. Bad people usually consist of the normal, civilian people. The worse people are the people with money or power. Shinobi usually belong to that group.

"Some shinobi consider themselves noble for taking up the dirty work normal people don't want to do. Others think that their status as shinobi is justification enough for whatever crimes they commit. (Like your father)," she added in a mutter. "All of these are just excuses for people who don't want to admit that they, by nature of their occupation, are bad. And it just proves that they're cowards who are too afraid to accept their identity.

"If someone really wanted to relieve themselves of some of the burden of evil that rests upon them as shinobi or as human beings, he wouldn't make up any excuses. A crime is a crime, and it's just as severe as the evidence claims. If you hurt another human being, or killed another human being, there's no way to step around that. It's fact, and that's that. In the long run, I'll tell you that no one is going to give a _damn_ why you did it, or whether the person you hurt or killed is a good or bad guy, or if the other person hurt you in return. All people are going to see are the plain and simple fact: that in hurting another person, you hurt your own flesh and blood; because as human beings and shinobi, all of us are the same."

Temari rubbed her temples, then continued in softer, yet of equal conviction, voice: "Forgive me for being a hypocrite, Shikadai. Even though I know and am telling you all of these things...I'm...a flawed creature. And even though I know better than to hide behind the guise of heroism most of the time, sometimes it's hard not to, and I do it anyway. I pretend to better than I actually am. Your Uncle Kankuro is the same. But Uncle Gaara..."

The look in Temari's eyes shifted once again at the mention of her youngest, most dynamic brother. "Why do you think we admire him so much, Shikadai?"

Shikadai didn't know, but he begged for the answer with his eyes. He admired his Uncle Gaara too: it was like the man's countenance begged others to admire him without the man having to do anything. At least, that's how Shikadai felt.

"We don't admire him because he's been able to give a reason or explanation for all of his past crimes, Shikadai. We admire him because he acknowledges every single one of his past crimes and flaws." _Sometimes too much_ , Temari mused as she remembered this morning. "He doesn't hide any of it, and he wears it-not proudly, but with dignity, for all to see. That takes more courage than I will ever know...

"He's accepted his identity for all its grave mistakes, as his own...and for that Uncle Kankuro and I accept him. After all, how can we accept someone who hasn't been able to accept himself? You can only be a stranger to other people if you're a stranger to yourself."

Shikadai physically restrained his gasp: he felt as though his eyes had been opened, perhaps forcibly, by his mother, but he appreciated it. He was not met by a blinding light upon uncovering his eyes, but rather, a blinding darkness that drowned the earth in its glorious ugliness. The world was a hideous place, he realized, but now he knew.

"Now, who are you?" Temari demanded.

"I'm Shikadai Nara," he answered, with more confidence than he had felt in a long time.

"And do you know who Shikadai Nara is?"

Shikadai nodded determinedly. "I do. He's no stranger of mine."

Finally, for one of the first times since entering the room, Temari smiled. It was a warm smile that proved to Shikadai that despite the world's darkness, light in the form of his mother's pure smile still existed.

"I saw what happened on that mission of yours." This statement no longer scared Shikadai. If he were to come to terms with the truth, why should he fear its revelation to other people? "Shitty mission, if you ask me."

"Tell me about it," he answered with a roll of his eyes.

"Well?" Temari asked in a tone that suggested she expected something of her son.

" _Now_ what am I doing wrong?"

"After all that and you're just gonna sit there?" Temari shook her head teasingly. "Sheesh, you're worse than I thought. You could at least _cry_."

A shinobi parent asking her shinobi child to cry. Preposterous.

And just like that, Shikadai suddenly found himself clinging to his mother's arms for dear life, sobbing his eyes out into her warm breast.

The smile never left Temari's face as her protective embrace surrounded her child. "There now, crybaby. You're mine, you know that? You're my little crybaby and I love you."

* * *

 _POOF_

The blonde and redhead conversing in the Hokage Office looked up at the new arrival.

"Gaara," Sasuke greeted.

"Uchiha."

"Oi, oi, I'm here too, you bastard!" Naruto cried. "Back so soon, huh? I was hoping we could be rid of you for a few more hours."

"Actually, it was preferable that this assignment was done in haste," Gaara quipped, not catching the joke. Naruto scowled at his oblivious friend. "Your timely return is appreciated, Uchiha."

"Hn."

"Okay, now for a mission report!" Naruto demanded enthusiastically. "So what'd you gather?"

Sasuke remained silent for a few moments. "Nothing."

Naruto stared back at his dark-haired comrade. In a deadpan, he stated, "That was the most lame-ass mission report ever, bastard. Now seriously, what'd you see?"

"Do I not look serious?"

"Sure you do, and your hair looks like a chicken butt."

"I don't even wear it in the same hairstyle anymore, loser. And that has nothing to do with anything. Anyway, I saw nothing, and I meant it."

Naruto remained confused, but Gaara seemed to catch on as his pale sea-foam green eyes quickly darkened.

"The evidence has been removed," he stated.

Sasuke nodded in affirmation. Naruto's eyes widened in horror.

"What? By who?"

"We don't know. They did a very good job of removing every piece of evidence. The clearing didn't appear as if it had been disturbed for a long while, and I would have assumed such if I hadn't known. I couldn't detect a trace of anything by sight or scent, so there was no lead."

"After all that...cutting and crushing...no blood, no body, no nothing?" Naruto confirmed in disbelief. 

"Nothing."

"To be able to fool even...Sasuke-bastard...what does this mean?"

It was Gaara who answered this time, his expression no longer inscrutable as darkness clouded it. "It means that for whoever is behind this, even Ryomen was just a pawn. This was their first move, and they're far from finished playing this game."

* * *

The white walls of the hospital that Shikadai hated so much were gradually consumed by the brilliant golden rays of the dying sun outside his window, until their hour of brilliance was wilted and domineering black swallowed the room.

He was now alone, in the dark, and he found he much preferred this: this was his realm.

 _My realm..._

 _Your realm is where the demons lie, Shikadai,_ the inner voice informed. _It's the place where the dead lie screaming in the dark in pools of their own blood!  
_  
The image did not bode well in Shikadai's brain, but he steeled himself in the face of his inner self, and, as haughtily as he could muster, replied, _How can anyone be dead and screaming at the same time?_

 _But of course, they can! Because they're in your realm..._

Shikadai prepared to argue back, but suddenly remembered what his mother had told him just a few hours ago, while she had been visiting:

 _"After all, how can we accept someone who hasn't been able to accept himself? You can only be a stranger to other people if you're a stranger to yourself..."_

The voice inside his head _was_ himself: he and it were one and the same. 

_You're right_ , Shikadai replied. 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he hastened to a corner of the room where stood a mirror. He stood just outside of its frame, fearing what he would see once he stepped into it. 

He thought of his Uncle Gaara, and hurried back to retrieve his hourglass, holding it tightly in his arms, before stepping right in front of the glass mirror. 

The shadows of the room clothed his figure and veiled his face, but the moonlight from the window outside shone from behind him and illuminated his silhouette. 

"You are no stranger," Shikadai whispered to the figure in the glass frame. "Accept your identity." He closed his eyes, controlling his breathing. "I know what I am." 

He gripped even tighter onto his hourglass. 

"I am a monster." 

Outside the window, a floating, sea-foam eye of sand dispersed into a million grains, before returning to the gourd on a certain shinobi's back. 

Gaara watched his nephew in his silence, and as he heard those words, a single tear escaped his eye. 


	10. Chapter 9: Turning a New Sand

**My beloved readers, welcome to Chapter 9 of "Identity of Love and Sand" and the month of February of 2016. My spirits have already been made with the arrival of my favorite month of the year, dubbed such for two reasons: Chinese New Year (新年快乐！万事如意！恭喜发财！ 红包拿来！** **), and my birthday on its 22nd day! My Sweet Sixteen's coming up in less than a week, y'all! You know what to do in order to heighten my spirits even further, love: READ AND REVIEW!**

 **I see this chapter as a transitory chapter: still, it's long-longer than I anticipated. Hope that's all right with you.**

 **Some of you have been asking (NarutoFan2018) whether Shikadai can control Gold Dust or sand or both. Answer: GOLD DUST. Sand manipulation is Shukaku's power, which can't be inherited. Gold Dust manipulation is the power of the Magnet Release kekkei genkai, the bloodline of Shikadai's ancestors.**

 **Also, if you haven't seen it yet, you MUST go see Misfitts's new deviation on DeviantArt. I literally fangirled when I saw it although I felt silly for fangirling over art of my own fanfiction. Silly YZY. Misfitts, thank you so much! You are an AWESOME artist. I won't tell you which scene the artwork is from because I want you all to go see that masterpiece FOR YOURSELVES!**

Chapter 9—Turning A New Sand

The Kazekage and Hokage: the Jinchuuriki pair-two very, very formidable opponents.

But then again, so were the old woman and man and sitting directly across from them.

Next to the Hokage sat his adviser, Shikamaru Nara, and next to the Kazekage sat his sister, Temari. They were two very involved members of this particular... _battle_.

And yet, Koharu and Homura refused to even look at that them in the eye.

 _How troublesome_ , Shikamaru thought. _Normally I try to avoid talking to these two at all costs. Now I don't have a choice._

Naruto chuckled nervously at their pursed lips. He used to laugh at Grandma Tsunade when she would drink away her woes after having dealt with these two "old geezers". He dared not mention that anymore for he felt exactly the same way. He discreetly wondered why Koharu and Homura couldn't be more fun, like Suna's Ebizo and long-deceased Granny Chiyo. He also felt guilty for wondering why they hadn't yet joined Chiyo.

"So uh...what do you say to our...proposal?" he asked tentatively.

Naruto's smile faltered when he only received grumpy frowns in return. Koharu was the first to speak.

"You do realize what you're asking for, don't you, Lord Hokage?"

"Actually, it was I who submitted the request, Lady Koharu," Gaara quickly defended his friend. "And yes, to answer your question, I believe that would be necessary for us to pose the question in the first place."

Koharu and Homura redirected their scowls toward Gaara, allowing Naruto to breathe a sigh of relief. The Hokage was easily frustrated with them, but with the Kazekage, the two elders were in for a fight: Gaara had patience and a smart mouth when it came to dealing with difficult old people. His ability to stun Onoki, the Third Tsuchikage, to silence when he was only fifteen years old was a testament to that.

 _I knew that allowing that Nara to marry that Suna girl all those years ago was a mistake_ , Homura thought bitterly. "With all due respect, Lord Kazekage: I can't help but find the timing of your...proposal to be slightly suspicious. You had twelve years to request for Shikadai Nara to go to Sunagakure. Why would you pull this up now?...especially after he was involved in such a major incident? Excuse me if I am mistaken, but there are many here in Konoha who have...more than a few...reservations regarding your, ah, _Sunagakure's_ partiality in the scheming of the recent event."

Koharu and Homura searched the Kazekage's face for his response-only for some time to pass and to find none.

 _Why, it's useless trying to provoke this child!_ Koharu thought. _Quite unlike the Hokages. It'll be hard talking past him; we're lucky he hasn't exuded more influence on the Hokage..._

 _Hmph_! Thought Homura. _What an insensitive young man. He must have a heart of steel to react so nonchalantly to what I just said._

Across from them, Gaara wondered why none of his heartache was ever able to seep out through his hard shell of sand. _It's been twenty years since I tried to become a different person...but they still don't trust me._

"Lord Homura, Lady Koharu, please: this is my _brother_ and my _son_ we are talking about. I can say with definite certainty that a third party was involved in the attack and that Gaara had nothing to do with it," Temari replied on behalf of Gaara, her voice firm with no room for argument.

Koharu and Homura looked unconvinced. "If you say so," Koharu said slowly.

Homura crossed his arms. "Regardless, that still doesn't explain why you are so eager to take Shikadai Nara now, of all times."

"Shikadai was recently _targeted_ and _attacked,_ and returned to Konoha half dead. As I would see it, Gaara has all the more reason to invite Shikadai to Sunagakure to train now than of all times, in order to insure his safety and ability to protect himself in the future." _And to teach him how to control the Magnet Release_. She did not say this out loud, however; Koharu and Homura would never let Shikadai leave Konoha if they knew he was the possessor of such a powerful kekkei genkai.

A frown adorned Koharu's face. "I don't see how it would make any difference were the boy to train in Konoha or Suna. He has two very powerful shinobi for parents." Koharu eyed Shikamaru and Temari, "Would you not say that he is already receiving optimal training right here at home?"

"Yes, he is, but that's different from receiving personal tutelage from the Kazekage," Shikamaru explained.

"The number of shinobi who have been personally instructed by Sabaku no Gaara are very limited." Homaru looked at Gaara quizzically. "And now you, the leader of Suna, are willing to take a Konoha shinobi, of all people, under your wing?"

Gaara would have quirked an eyebrow had he any. His expression seemed to read, _Why not?_

"A shinobi must never allow himself to be guided by his emotions, Lord Kazekage," Koharu lectured. Naruto rolled his eyes. _Is she seriously trying to_ _lecture Gaara?_ "Konoha and Suna are tied solely by political affiliation, but I daresay your desire to bring Shikadai to Suna is based on your feelings, whatever they may be, towards your nephew. Am I wrong?" _Ha, I've got him now!_ the old woman thought in triumph.

Gaara did not even fidget once. "No, you are rather correct, Lady Koharu. I will do everything within my power to protect those who are precious to me. As Kazekage, the people of Sunagakure are precious to me. Shikadai is unconditionally precious to me because he is my sister's child. But," Gaara continued, allowing Koharu and Homaru no room to interrupt, "he is also a Konoha shinobi. By the nature of the Konoha-Suna alliance-" here, Gaara snuck a glance at Naruto-"every citizen of Konoha is also precious to me, and I will protect them at all costs." Gaara looked Koharu dead in the eye. "I know that Naruto feels the same way for my people. I must congratulate you for having such an open-hearted Hokage."

 _Score_! Naruto thought, stifling his chuckle. He reminded himself to give Gaara a hug later in thanks for complimenting him in front of Koharu and Homura (who were always criticizing him), even though Gaara seemed to hate hugs.

Koharu and Homura looked at each other and pursed their lips again. It seemed that the Kazekage had a talent for cornering them with their own words. In their many, many...many years, such a thing had never happened before.

Homura decided to try a different approach. "From my many years of experience, I have come to realize that the trust Konoha put in other ninja villages was often misplaced. I don't oppose Konoha's alliance with your country at the present, but...I can't help but find the idea of a Konoha shinobi going on a long-term stay in Sunagakure-and associating so closely with the Kazekage-to be unwise."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you're twelve years too late for that. Shikadai has been 'closely associated' with both of his uncles for all his life." Temari usually spoke with more tact than this, but her patience levels over the past few days were wearing thin. _Besides, this is the Konoha Council,_ she reminded herself. _I'm a Suna shinobi, so I'm not obligated to show them ridiculous amounts of respect._

Koharu and Homura wondered if it was too late to revoke the Nara Clan Head's marriage to this annoyingly sassy foreign girl.

"I don't see how this is much different from having Temari here in Konoha," Shikamaru added.

"Your wife is a seasoned and professional shinobi, Mr. Nara. Forgive me for my straightforwardness, but your son is still far from that," Koharu said.

"Isn't that all the more reason to let him go to Suna to get _stronger_?" Naruto cried.

"That isn't what we were referring to," Homura explained. "Shikadai Nara is just a genin-a child! He is twelve years old, is he not?"

Shikamaru nodded carefully, glancing at his wife. She had many more years of political experience than him, and oh how he hated all this diplomatic talk.

Temari wondered what Homura's acknowledgement of Shikadai's young age meant. She was sure that he wasn't the least bit concerned for his actual welfare.

"This is the age at which shinobi are the most impressionable. At this age, it becomes their village's duty to mold them into the most effective shinobi. It is at this point that their loyalty towards their village is minted and solidified. How do you plan to do that, Lord Hokage, if you allow Shikadai Nara to traipse about in Sunagakure during this period of his young life?"

"Not by inhibiting him from achieving his true potential!" Naruto argued back.

"I assure you, Shikadai won't be traipsing around any more in Sunagakure than he is here in Konoha," Shikamaru drawled. He was well aware of the inexplicable sense of motivation Gaara seemed to elicit within Shikadai; if anything, Shikadai'd have have no traipsing to do if he were in the desert country his uncle led.

"Why do you so adamantly believe a Konoha shinobi will achieve his full potential in Sunagakure?" Homura pressed, frustration finally creeping into his voice.

"This is an era of peace, and friendship," said Gaara in his calm voice, effectively silencing Homura. "The bonds shared between the world's various hidden villages have transcended the times in which shinobi belonged to a single country. In today's world, the hidden villages all represent love, peace, and tranquility, and it is to that that shinobi belong, not to the villages' themselves."

"What a way for a Kazekage to speak," Homura commented. "How do you expect to raise a powerful country with that kind of thinking?"

"I do so by respecting my people and shinobi, and those of the rest of the world. Lord Homura, Lady Koharu: you speak of molding shinobi into effective tools for the sake of their village. This would very well work if the shinobi were not made of flesh and blood. They may bend, but they will not conform to the shape you desire them to hold, unless you desire them to take the shape _they themselves_ desire to take. If you press too hard, they may only retaliate at double the force." _Look what happened to me when the Fourth Kazekage tried to mold me into Sunagakure's ultimate weapon._

"You may give a child a bucket and shovel to construct a sandcastle, but even with the right tools, the child will never build you a sandcastle, for you cannot coax the sand with which he plays not to slip through his fingers. That is why...as Kazekage and as a world leader within this era of peace of fraternity, I strive to be the one who does not give the people the tools with which to build the sandcastle, but rather, the water that will bind the shifting grains together: and perhaps, without the bucket and shovel, but their own bare hands, the people can use the sand and the little bit of water to build something far greater than the likes of a castle."

Naruto looked at Gaara with a smile of admiration. _Man, I wish I had Gaara's way with words._

Temari's expression was one of pure pride for her baby brother.

Koharu's and Homura's expressions were sour from their inability to conjure a counterargument to the Suna leader's rhetoric.

Finally, Koharu said, "Why, I never would have thought the Kazekage to be such a _poet_." She meant to mock Gaara with her words, but in her heart of hearts that she would never admit, she was impressed with the serious, crimson-haired young man.

But Gaara looked straight at her as if he knew exactly of the hidden admiration behind her words. "Thank you," he answered monotonously, although a hint of a smirk seemed to play at his lips. As much of a smirk as the stoic Kazekage could muster, anyway.

Still, Koharu and Homura were not called stubborn old geezers for nothing. Homura turned to yet another argument. "The Nara Clan is a prominent clan in Konoha-it's one of our foremost clans, in fact, especially since its Head of Clan is Hokage adviser." Homura nodded at Shikamaru. "Shikadai Nara is next in line for the position, which makes him a more important individual than the average shinobi in Konoha. Despite his young age, he's already looked up to as something of a public figure. Why should we trust Sunagakure enough to put such a valuable Konoha shinobi in your hands?"

Naruto clenched his fists upon hearing Homura speak of shinobi as if prices and values could be slapped onto them.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Shikadai was more 'valuable' to Gaara than to the entire population of Konoha combined.

"For the same reason why Sunagakure's has entrusted the safety and protection of the Kazekage Clan's last heir to _you_."

There was really nothing either Koharu and Homura could say to that, so they sat silently in their seething and scowling glory. They'd lived many years and they still hadn't learned the art of accepting defeat.

"Dammit!" Naruto finally exploded, getting up and slamming his hands down on the table, making all but Gaara jump in surprise. "You stubborn old geezers, don't forgot that _I'm_ Hokage! You can screech and whine all you want, but if _I_ want Shikadai to go to Suna then he's going to Suna. I need your permission to give Shikadai could get official recognition to go to Suna on a training mission, and it'd do wonders for the alliance if Shikadai could pioneer Suna-Konoha inter-village shinobi training. The Kazekage even came personally to ask you _nicely_. You should be jumping for joy for this kind of opportunity! But if you're gonna sit on your fat asses and be so damn difficult, then I'll just send Shikadai to Suna on an ambassador mission, and there won't be anything you can do about it!"

"Yes there is," Koharu began calmly (though inside she was extremely irked with the Hokage), holding up a restraining hand when Naruto opened his mouth to retort. "We accept your proposal. We will allow Shikadai to pioneer the Suna-Konoha inter-village shinobi training program. He will be permitted to travel to Sunagakure to study with the Kazekage."

"Yes!" Naruto cried, "finally!" He pumped his fists into the air triumphantly.

"Lord Kazekage," Koharu addressed Gaara, "did you not say oppose the bending of shinobi to the will of others? Then we should accept your proposal to take Shikadai Nara to Sunagakure, on the one condition that he be given the free choice of whether or not to leave his hometown to train in a distant land."

"Of course," Gaara replied. "I don't see how it could have been done any other way."

"Then our business here is done." Koharu and Homura stood up and bowed to Gaara. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Lord Kazekage." Naruto snorted loudly in response to this, which the two elderly members of the Konoha Council conspicuously ignored. "For the sake of both Konoha and Suna, we wish Shikadai Nara the best. If you would excuse us, we will take our leave now."

Koharu and Homura turned and walked out of the meeting room in silence.

It was the best they could get: they did not enjoy the prospect of this 'foreign exchange', but if Lord Hokage truly decided to rashly send Shikadai Nara to Sunagakure under the guise of an ambassador mission, Koharu and Homura would have no say in it and Shikadai would inevitably have to go to Sunagakure. By leaving the decision up to the young boy himself, there was still a chance that he might decline. From what they'd heard of Shikadai's personality, he might decide that going away to train in a foreign land would be too troublesome...right? _Right_ , so they'd cling on to that last hope.

Temari caught that hopeful glint in Koharu's and Homura's eyes right before they exited the room, and she curled her toes in disgust at these old bastards who tried so selfishly to control the shinobi they didn't know well at all. They didn't know Shikadai; if they did, they'd know that their hope was in vain.

Temari _wanted_ Shikadai to go to Sunagakure; she _wanted_ for him this amazing opportunity to be with Uncle Gaara that she knew he needed. She'd fought for Shikadai's right to go to Suna tooth and nail with zest and adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she'd fight this battle forever if she had to. But the war against the Konoha Council had ended; Koharu and Homura had given their blessing for Shikadai's trip and left the room, but with it, they'd taken Temari's fighting spirit as well, leaving in her mouth a bitter dose of reality.

She paid little attention to the antics of the Hokage and her younger brother beside her.

True to his earlier word, Naruto leapt up and swept Gaara into a bone-crushing hug-one that the Kazekage did not return, but did not reject either. Gaara and Naruto once matched each other exactly in height, but nowadays, Naruto was conspicuously taller, of larger stature, more muscular, and better-built than Gaara. Add Gaara's loosely-flowing robes on top of that, and it made the Hokage appear as if he were squeezing a life-sized, emotionless, crimson-headed doll. Shikamaru snickered.

"You were sooooo awesome Gaara!" the blonde man wailed happily into Gaara's ear. "Ha, ha, ha! Did you see the looks of Koharu's and Homura's faces? You had them-literally-stumped! Ah ha ha ha! Man, those old geezers really needed to be put in their place."

Naruto released his "doll", who stepped backward and straightened his slightly tousled robes. Looking down at Gaara, Naruto asked, "Is Sunagakure's Council like this too?"

"Sunagakure's Council consists of twelve members. I would admit that they do not possess the most...tolerant and compatible of...personalities."

"Twelve?" Naruto cried in despair. He pulled Gaara once again into a tight hug, crumpling his newly-straightened robes. "Oh my poor Gaaaaara-how do you survive all those gnarly, creepy nasty old hags!?"

Gaara seemed to ponder this for a moment. "The presence of the Sunagakure Council is not life-threatening. I have an ally in Baki, my sensei, but the others...while they may not always be in agreement with me, they are often afraid to undermine my authority." Still wrapped in Naruto's arms, Gaara looked away with a distant look in his eyes. "Even after all my efforts, it is difficult for them to banish the memory of my old self."

Naruto let go of Gaara and smiled at him before ruffling his red hair. Gaara's eyes went up, following the hand on his head. "Don't you worry about it one bit, Gaara. As your friend I know you're one of the most awesome people in the whole world." A wide grin graced the Hokage's face. "Besides, you'll show 'em! Once you take Shikadai to Suna with you the council will see just what a super-duper-amazingly-fantastic-mind-blowing uncle you are, believe it!"

The smallest of smiles came upon Gaara's thin lips. "Thank you, Naruto," he said softly. "On the other hand, it is a pity to observe that the Konoha Council is unable to appreciate having you as Hokage."

Naruto's smile became even wider, if that were possible. "Aww, thanks, Gaara, my man!" He chuckled. "I wish more people thought like you, hehe."

As an afterthought, Naruto added, "Shikadai's gonna be really happy in Suna, I just know it. Take good care of the kid, okay? Dang, I'll miss him. Heh, I guess Ino-Shika-Chou will have to deal without their 'Shika' for a while."

Normally, this would be the time Temari would step in to ask Naruto to please kindly stop harassing her younger brother _before she bashed in his face with an iron fan._

But today, Temari simply looked away disinterestedly, only half listening to the exchange between to the two Kages.

She jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She cursed herself for being so distracted by her thoughts as to have not noticed the presence that had been approaching her from behind.

She spun around, all of her muscles tensed. Shikamaru seemed a little caught off guard by the anxiety exhibited by his wife, and he displayed a sympathetic expression. "Temari, I-"

"Save it," she spat at him, wringing his hand off of her shoulder and stalking away to her brother's side. She and Shikamaru had not fully come to terms yet since their argument at Shikadai's bedside, although Shikamaru had been trying his best to get back on his wife's good side. He had suddenly become very understanding of her point of view and had apologized for his ignorance that night more than once. He was just as, if not more, adamant as Temari to get Shikadai to Suna to train with Gaara. Temari was sure it had something to do with whatever Kankuro and Gaara said to him after dragging him away. Her brothers could be very convincing sometimes. Or threatening.

Shikamaru sighed. "Troublesome..."

 _I have more to deal with than with Shikamaru's pathetic groveling_ , Temari thought in spite.

She thought back to Koharu and Homura. In leaving the decision up to Shikadai, they had sealed their fate. And while Temari couldn't be more proud that her baby brother was going to teach her baby boy, she also knew...

 _That she was going to miss Shikadai like hell._

"Mom? Mom! Mom!"

Temari blinked at the sensation of fingers poking her forehead. Her eyes came into focus to find her son standing over her with an unimpressed expression on his face.

She held herself back from slapping his hand away, for by doing so she risked provoking Shikadai's protective Gold Dust.

 _Urgh...that's another thing I'll miss...getting to slap Shikadai around all the time. Oh well, I guess Shikamaru's gonna get it twice as bad from now on._

She settled for a glare. "What?" she sharply asked her son.

Shikadai pulled off an even more unimpressed expression. "I could ask you the same. I've been calling you for the last five minutes." He gestured to the place on the table in front of Temari. "I've already finished and you haven't touched your breakfast."

Temari looked down and saw a bowl of porridge in front of her. She realized that she was in her home-Shikamaru had left for work already, and she had been having breakfast with Shikadai. That is, until her attention fled her and she got caught up in her thoughts.

Gaara and Kankuro had returned to Suna a week ago, having only stayed long enough to see Shikadai safely released from the hospital.

"Dammit," she cursed as she shoved a spoonful of now cold porridge into her mouth.

Shikadai looked at his mother critically. "You've been acting weird," he observed. "What were you thinking about?"

"None of your business," Temari snapped.

"Huh, really..." Shikadai mused thoughtfully. "I was wondering, why you haven't been assigned to any missions lately." Shikadai was well aware of his mother's elite status as a kunoichi, and she was usually in high demand for assignments (especially those that required quick and large amounts of destruction). So why had she been home for the past few days, sitting around with a distant look on her face?

"I don't know," she lied. The news of the plan they had for Shikadai hadn't been broken to him yet. "Why d'you ask?"

"It's troublesome to have you around at home all day sulking around," Shikadai answered. Temari seethed; she _really_ wanted to slap him now. "No really, though, I was thinking that I have a right to know if you and dad really went ahead with Uncle Kankuro's advice."

Temari gasped.

 _"Bye, Kankuro, Bye Gaara. Make sure to write, okay? I'll sure miss my little brothers."_

 _She gave each of her brothers a hug but glared when they offered the same friendly goodbye to Shikamaru._

 _Her brothers, being as attentive as they were, noticed._

 _"Sheesh, you guys seriously need to make up," Kankuro complained loudly to Shikamaru and Temari. "This is why I'm never getting married. I'm glad I'm going to back to Suna today; I don't think I can stand another minute of the sexual tension between you two."_

 _Shikamaru's and Temari's reactions were similar, and both involved a lot of red face and spluttering._

 _"Seriously, just go back home and make out or something. Make Gaara and me another nephew or a niece. Everything will be good in the morning."_

 _Shikamaru was starting to look like a crimson pineapple-strange indeed-and Temari screamed loud enough for all of Konoha to hear, "Kankuro!"_

 _Too amused for his own good, Kankuro covered his ears and smirked, "Ew, save the screaming for the bedroom, sister. Although I should warn you, Shikamaru, this girl is pretty rough around the edges, although I guess you'd know about that better than me."_

 _Kankuro laughed hysterically, Gaara continued standing there like nothing had happened (despite having read Icha-Icha, he still didn't understand such matters), and Shikamaru looked seconds away from having a heart attack and dying._

 _The blast of wind that hit Kankuro in the face may have been enough to send him all the way back to Suna._

"So? Did you?" Shikadai pressed.

Temari's face was turning crimson. "No!" she spluttered defensively. "As a matter of fact, I did not! Not that it's any of your business, anyways!"

Shikadai raised a skeptical brow and simply replied, "Oh."

Temari had the half the mind to lecture Shikadai about speaking of such indecent things about his own parents, but decided that doing so would make it worse. _Maybe it's a good thing he'll be a going away for a while, after all_ , she thought. Then she shuddered upon realizing that a large portion of his time would be spent with Kankuro, and she wouldn't be there to put either of them in line.

"You're friends invited you to train with them today," she told Shikadai, clearing her throat and changing the subject.

Shikadai's mood darkened at the mention of his "friends". _A monster like me doesn't have any friends_ , he thought, but kept this to himself.

"So what? They don't need me."

Temari looked at Shikadai sternly. "They asked you to be at the training field at 10."

" _I_ don't need _them_ ," he retorted.

Shikadai saw Temari close her eyes and expected her to snap them open any minute and yell at him.

Instead, his mother opened her almond-shaped eyes slowly and looked dead straight into his own that made him gulp drily. "You're right. You don't. You don't need me either, or Uncle Kankuro, or Uncle Gaara, or anyone else. You don't need anyone." Temari had considered including Shikamaru in the list, but decided she was still mad enough at him to leave him out of the list for now.

Shikadai's expression turned into one of hurt. "What-? But yes, I do-"

"Anyone could survive in this world all alone, Shikadai. I'm just the same. I don't need my brothers, or my village, or anyone else, either. I don't need _you_ , Shikadai."

Shikadai exhibited his pain at his mother's words unabashedly on his face.

"But, life would be a lot shittier without you." Temari offered. "I'd call it surviving, but it wouldn't really be _living_ , would it?" She smirked a bitter smile.

Shikadai's eyes fell upon hearing his mother's words, and he felt his heart clench with emotion. He would have hugged her, but she really wasn't that type, so silence fell over them.

Until Shikadai opened his mouth again: "But I still don't want to go train-"

"Urgh, Shikadai, just get out of the house," Temari groaned. "I don't care if you go train or not-" Shikadai's eyebrows rose at this-"just leave me alone! I have a mission, and you're disturbing me!"

"A mission? I thought we established that you had none?"

"Well, I've changed my mind, so yes I _do_ have mission."

"You've changed your mind? What? Isn't that up to the Hokage?" Shikadai skeptically asked. "So, your mission. Where to?"

Temari sighed, and looked away, suddenly appearing very tired. She pointed to her chest. "In here."

Shikadai realized she was pointing at her heart.

"Oh," he said.

With that, he wordlessly got up and silently left his mother at the table to her thoughts. After going to his room to slip a couple of kunai and Uncle Gaara's hourglass (he wouldn't step an inch away from his home without it anymore) into his pouch, he padded out of his house.

Temari heard the door to the Nara home slide shut and Shikadai's chakra signature fade away. She allowed her face to fall into her hands she exhaled a deep, long sigh.

She had long ago forgiven her father, Rasa, but she would never forget. While the Fourth Kazekage had redeemed himself during the Fourth Great Shinobi War, a couple minutes of reanimation could not undo fifteen years of Temari's miserable childhood. She drew a fine line between the period of "surviving"-the early years of her life-and "living"-the years after which Gaara changed. That line fell correlated neatly with the time of Rasa's death at the hands of Mizuki's father.

She hadn't wasted her thoughts on her late father for a long time, but now she cursed him. Cursed him for never teaching her how to be woman. How to be a parent. How to be a _mother_.

She'd ended up teaching herself those things (although in terms of femininity she was less refined than most, despite being the closest thing there was to royalty in Suna). At least Karura had passed down her divine beauty to Temari.

But there was one thing Karura hadn't passed down to Temari, that Rasa had never taught her, and that she had never been able to teach herself:

 _How to cry._

Shikadai looked down at shinobi sandals, watching as his feet took him farther and farther away from his house.

 _I want to go home._

He lifted his head in surprise at the sound of the inner voice in his head. _Home? We are home!_ he told it, even though he agreed with the voice and knew he was lying to it.

Homesickness occurred when one was _sick_ for _home_ , and so Shikadai knew for certain that "home" wasn't the Nara house, for even as he slept and ate there he had the feeling of longing in his chest to go to the place he belonged. "Home" wasn't Konoha, since he was in the very village now and still felt homesick. "Home" wasn't where his "friends" were, since he was heading towards them now, and he _still_ felt the symptoms of homesickness.

He groaned as the training field came into view; Temari had told him he could do whatever he liked, but he'd still come here, of all places. He cursed his feet for having a mind of their own and taking him here. _How troublesome._

From his position he could see his comrades clustered in the middle of the grassy area, chit-chatting idly, having not started with their training yet. Their parents were also clustered together and chatting off to the side.

He looked at the former group and noted the blonde hair of Boruto, the black hair of Sarada, the pale hair of Inojin, the brown hair of Chouchou, and the indigo hair of-

Himawari?

"Hey Shikadai, you've come!" Sakura Haruno yelled and waved at the youngest Nara. "Where's your mom?"

He continued approaching them at his lethargic pace and, without making eye contact, shrugged.

"Hey, look at me when I talk to you, young man!" Aunt Sakura called.

He glared.

The pink-haired woman sighed. "How have you been? Feeling better?"

 _I would be_ , he thought, _if I weren't_ sick _of people asking me that._

Sakura scowled. _It's been so many days, and he's still acting this way._

Shikadai's eyes flitted over to the Yamanaka couple. He realized Aunt Ino had been staring at him, but she quickly glanced away guiltily when their eyes were about to meet.

He looked to Uncle Chouji and Aunt Karui: both were staring at the ground, and Shikadai had a strong hunch they were doing so just to avoid his eyes.

He rolled his eyes and directed his attention towards the son and daughter of the two respective couples instead.

They'd been teammates for their entire lives, but the concept of them even attempting to work closely together now seemed foreign.

With a serious but unreadable expression, and keeping his eyes focused on theirs, Shikadai walked towards Inojin and Chouchou, who were huddled together.

The distance between them never closed, for with every step forward that Shikadai took, his teammates took an unconscious step backward.

He had no intention to do anything to them. _Just your presence is doing this to them_ , the voice in his mind snorted.

He opened his mouth to say something to them-it'd be the first words they'd share since their return from the mission to Kyokai-but whatever was about to come out of his mouth was quickly knocked out of his mind from the sensation of something soft and warm surrounding his leg. He jumped.

"Hi, Big Brother Shikadai!"

He looked down with a scowl at the little, smiling thing hugging his leg. Himawari's greeting was warm, but it did not warm him, and thus, he did not return it.

Instead, he looked up at the group of adults standing not too far away. "What is she doing here?" he questioned gruffly, pointing at Himawari.

Hinata paled by several shades. _Shikadai came to train...?_ she thought in worry. _Why did Temari let him come? How are we going to keep his secret this way?_

The only people in Konoha who officially knew about Shikadai's Gold Dust Magnet Release at the present moment were the Hokage, his adviser (Temari didn't count because she was actually a Sunagakure citizen), Sasuke Uchiha, and Hinata Hyuga. Officially, because Hinata was sure Sasuke had relayed the information to Sakura Haruno, and even if he hadn't, Naruto would have told his longtime pink-haired teammate anyway.

Hinata's two longtime friends and teammates had tagged along today, and while Shino Aburame took notice of her sudden panic, Kiba Inuzuka remained oblivious. Instead, he bounded excitedly towards Hinata's little daughter (for whom he had a soft spot), who was stilling clinging lovingly to the Shikamaru's boy.

"Himawari's gonna train with you little brats today!" Kiba exclaimed in excitement. "She may be small, but you better not underestimate her! You better watch out for her freaky Byakugan eyes!" He flashed his canines and Himawari giggled. "Shino and I came to see Hinata's little girl _kick yo' asses_!"

Suddenly, Kiba's expression darkened and he sniffed the air. He cocked his head and looked at Shikadai strangely. "Hey Nara, you have this metallic smell all over you." He took a deeper whiff. "Yeah, what kind of places you been to lately? You smell like gol-"

In a flash, Hinata was at Kiba's side and pinching his arm painfully. "Yow! What was that for!" the dog man cried, turning to yell at the offender, only to take a double take when he realized it was his _gentle_ teammate Hinata. "Hina-

"All right, everyone, why don't we get started!" Hinata proposed in a voice too high and squeaky, clasping her hands together.

Everyone looked at the Hokage's wife like she'd grown an extra head-except for Sakura, who realized that Hinata was trying to keep Kiba from revealing Shikadai's Gold Dust Magnet Release secret. Well, Hinata had done a _swell_ job. Sakura facepalmed.

Eyes bewildered by her out-of-character behavior continued to stare at the Hyuga woman. Fortunately, Hinata was saved from having to explain herself by another female voice, which was luckily oblivious to the awkward atmosphere at the current moment.

It was Tenten. "Hey, don't start the show yet!" she called, making her way over. "You'll never live it down if you begin without Lee."

Shikadai stiffened at the mention of the weapon mistress's son. Metal Lee... that boy had stubbornness as firm and a skull as thick as one of his mother's fearful steel weapons. _And what had he said to me the last time we met?_

"Hiyah!"

 _No, that's not what he said..._

"Shikadai! My eternal rival! Henceforth you may hide no longer! Now that you have fully recovered, the time has come where we meet in combat! Defend yourself and your honor, my friend!"

Shikadai whipped around, realizing that it was not his memory talking, but a living, breathing, life-sized, green-clad, fuzzy-browed Metal Lee rapidly approaching him.

"Leaf Hurricane!"

The last time this had happened, Shikadai had waited patiently for his face to be bashed in by Metal Lee's powerful kick. It had only been perchance that Uncle Gaara's sand stood in the way. This time, there was no Uncle Gaara and no sand, but this time, Shikadai certainly was not going to accept defeat before it even happened.

He shifted into a battle stance. His hands began nimbly weaving the hand-signs for his signature jutsu. "Shadow Possesion Jut-"

A high pitched, female scream pierced the air.

The loud, ringing noise was a like a siren, and for a moment Shikadai's brain froze in alarm. Time seemed to stop, and he could almost _hear_ the _absence_ of a clock's ticking.

He turned and saw Himawari's mouth still open from the cry she'd just elicited. Thick veins protruded on her temples and around her eyes, and her startled Byakugan were directed not at Metal Lee, but straight at Shikadai.

 _She's afraid of you! You're a monster, Shikadai!_

"Ack!"

The muffled cry certainly didn't belong to a young female this time, and instead to a struggling shinobi who had just been tackled to the ground. Shikadai was bemused: what were the chances that twice, when he was about to become a pancake under Metal Lee's leg, that someone would intervene? This time not by Uncle Gaara, but by-

His mind did a double take. _Aunt Hinata?_

The Hyuga woman was standing over the fallen Metal Lee with her palms extended in front of her.

The young Lee looked up at her with wide eyes. "Oh no! I cannot move!"

Shikadai heard the sound of laughing and turned to see Boruto clutching his stomach. He had to admit, even though he had no idea what the _hell_ was going on, the sight of Boruto's mother beating up Rock Lee and Tenten's son was pretty _damn_ funny.

"Oh! Lee..." Hinata cried, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for using her Gentle Fist on the boy. "I-I'm so sorry! I-I acted without thinking...um, you were coming over this way and Himawari was...in the way...and when she screamed I-um, I panicked and thought you were-you were going to hurt her! I panicked and overreacted! Please forgive me!"

"Mrs. Uzumaki! I assure you that I was not about to hurt your daughter! You see, Shikadai and I are declared rivals! I was merely upholding our rivalry!"

"O-oh, I see..." Hinata said. "But could we save that for another day, Lee?" _If they fight now, Shikadai's Gold Dust Shield will most definitely be activated！_

She nimbly struck several points along Metal Lee's body to allow him regained access to mobility. Before Metal Lee could say another word, Hinata quickly rushed back to her daughter, who was still standing with a shell-shocked face.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Hinata asked sweetly. "Did Big Brother Lee scare you?"

The young girl shook her head. "N-no, it wasn't him..." she replied. "It was Big Brother Shikadai!" she said, pointing.

Shikadai turned to look at her with a raised brow. "Me?" he asked lowly. _I wasn't the one charging towards us a million miles an hour._

"Yeah!" Himawari cried, using exaggerated hand gestures typical of young human beings such as herself. "I saw Big Brother Shikadai's chakra doing weird things! Like, all of sudden there was a lot it surrounding his body! Did you see it, Mommy? And his chakra was all weird and powerful and dangerous! Why did your chakra look like that, Big Brother Shikadai?"

Hinata paled. Himawari had just seen Shikadai's automatic defense. "Himawari, maybe you were just imagining it? Didn't you see that Big Brother Shikadai was about to do his Shadow Possession Jutsu?"

"No!" Himawari protested stubbornly. "That's not what the Shadow Possession Jutsu looks like from the Byakugan! The chakra movements for the Nara Clan's jutsus are very small! Don't you know that, Mommy?"

Shikadai observed their banter and furrowed his brows suspiciously. _What did Himawari see?_

 _The truth_ , was the answer.

Kiba stepped forward. "Actually, Hinata, I have to agree with Himawari. Didn't you sense that-"

In a more forward, stern, and no-nonsense manner than had ever been exhibited by Hinata, she cut in, "No. I'm sure it was just a part of her imagination."

"Mom!" Himawari pouted.

"What are you hiding? Hinata?" Shino stepped forward and asked.

"Hiding?" Hinata stammered, the nervous edge to her voice returning. "I-I'm not hiding anything, Shino...why would you say that?"

"Because, I can tell. Why? Because I have been your teammate for many years and am very familiar with your mannerisms." The Aburame stared down through his thick, darkly-shaded glasses at Hinata's hands, the index fingers of which were pushing themselves together as they often had when she was a girl. "Your fidgeting is a nervous habit-"

Shikadai soon found himself bored with all this idle conversation. _You are the one who came here of your own accord_ , the voice accused.

 _We came here to train! What the hell are we doing standing around doing nothing, watching Aunt Hinata act like some weirdo!_ he chimed in himself.

His patience brought to a boil, he set his hungry eyes upon his most viable, helpless target: the youngest Uzumaki. She was watching Aburame-sensei intently as he spoke, but Shikadai didn't give him a chance to finish.

Himawari's high-pitched scream once again curdled through the air and swiftly cut cleanly through Shino Aburame's monotonous rhetoric.

Shikadai roughly snatched her by the arm and held onto her in a headlock, cruelly baring his teeth next to her ear. Himawari trembled violently, whimpering as she was forcefully held captive. All the heads in the training field turned at the spectacle of Himawari being gripped in Shikadai's arms in a manner that was most evidently the opposite of a warm embrace.

Everyone else froze and proceeded as if walking on thin ice: the fragile little girl was under custody of the violent and unstable nephew of the dangerous Kazekage. Any move could prove to be fatal. Boruto, however, was an exception, always the oddball and unpredictable one among a group, as his father had been. "What the hell are you doing?" he bellowed. "Let go of my sister!"

Retaining his tight grip on Himawari and digging his nails into the flesh of her arm (eliciting a wail from the little girl), Shikadai cocked his head at Boruto and in an impassive voice, replied, "To answer your question, I'm training. Isn't that what we came here to do? Your enemy isn't going to wait around and ask 'how are you' in the real world." He pulled Himawari's hair sharply, causing her-and the spectators-to yelp.

"You fucking sick bastard!" Boruto shouted in alarm. "Himawari isn't your enemy, let her go!"

Shikadai tapped his chin in faux contemplation of Boruto's words. "Isn't she?" he asked calmly.

Shikadai made himself Boruto's enemy with those words, and, all thought banished that Shikadai was his _friend_ , Boruto let out a roar and rushed towards his sister's captor, his hands weaving themselves into seals. Hinata was conflicted, but knew that if Boruto attempted to land a hit on Shikadai, nothing good could come out of it. Trying to stop her son, she called out in a strangled voice, "Boruto, stop-"

She needn't have tried, for the scene that beheld her and the rest of group was enough to stop the raging Boruto-and everyone else, for that matter-in his tracks.

Shikadai pulled Himawari's hair even farther back, forcing her head up with one hand and pressing a kunai against her throat with the other. Himawari screamed again, but was promptly silenced when Shikadai delivered one sharp tug to her hair and hissed in her ear, " _Shut up."_

He turned back to his audience and drank in, with sick pleasure, their horror and terror. A small part of him felt guilty for doing this to the Uzumaki family, but that small part was so small it was utterly excusable. Power was an addictive drug, and the amount power he held over Himawari and everyone else at the moment sent a large dose pumping fire through Shikadai's bloodstream.

All eyes were trained on the sharp knife that glinted against Himawari's exposed neck. Shikadai noted how they were all frozen like statues, and he wanted it to remain this way. "Move," he said slowly, his dark voice taking full command, "and she dies."

Himawari's tears streamed down onto the kunai.

Shikadai looked at it and knew that Himawari's tears would be the only thing staining the knife today; he had no desire for her blood. It was true, as Boruto had said: Himawari wasn't his enemy. He simply took pleasure from the power the current situation lent him. He may have threatened her life, but he'd been lying. _Whoever said monsters were honest...?_

Himawari's wavering voice reached his ears. "Big B-brother...Shikadai..." she pleaded.

In a voice that was almost sweet and kind, Shikadai replied, "Would you really call someone who would _kill_ you...your _big brother_?"

"B-big Brother Shikadai...w-wouldn't..."

"You have the Byakugan, don't you...Himawari...? What everybody else sees is just a mirage, but you were able to look _inside_ me, weren't you...Himawari? Tell me...just what did you see?...You saw something, didn't you? The _real_ thing...?" _The monster?_

"Tell me, Himawari, are you... _afraid_ of me?"

Himawari began to sob in earnest.

"Don't lie...I promise _Big Brother_ won't get mad at you," he reassured.

"Y-y-yes..."

Shikadai maintained the deadlock for several moments longer, relishing in the sound of Himawari's fear and the feeling of her heaving breaths of terror vibrating against his very bones. Presently, he took the kunai away from her neck and released her hair. The young girl collapsed in a sobbing, quaking heap on the ground.

She'd been the pawn in his game and he'd completed his move with her. Now that she was of no further use to him, Shikadai walked away disinterestedly. "I win," he declared, referring to the 'training' session in which he'd successfully held everyone at bay.

He dully noted Hinata and Boruto-the latter too concerned with checking his sister's welfare to pursue her assaulter for the moment-kneeling next to Himawari and cooing words of comfort to her while she continued to weep. The others stood in awestruck silence, still dumb from what had just happened.

Shikadai's thoughts were just beginning to drift when yet another foreign sound brought him back to the concrete world. The sound of clapping, cheering, and whoops of, "Yeah! Way to go, Lord Shikadai!"

Whoa whoa whoa, _wait a second._

 _Lord Shikadai?_

Bemused, Shikadai turned to the source of the fanfare, still not quite believing that it was meant for him.

Standing at the edge of the training field and cheering enthusiastically were two adult shinobi. The one on the right had cheek length black hair and eyes of the same color. The one on the left wore a white turban, his face framed by flaps of white cloth. The bundles both of them carried on their backs made it obvious where they were from, and the shining plates of metal that adorned their foreheads proved it further.

 _Suna ninja._

Their excitement seemed to grow tenfold when they noticed Shikadai was looking at them. Giddily, they rushed over to Shikadai's side, pulling him into warm handshakes. "You were so amazing, Lord Shikadai! You're so strong and powerful and smart, just like Lord Gaara!"

Aunt Sakura's loud voice cut through. "Oi, you two Suna ninja! How could you call that amazing? What Shikadai did was just brutal! You don't do that to your comrades!"

The one with the black hair cocked his head. "Do what? I didn't see Lord Shikadai do anything?"

"Right," the turbaned one agreed, "I just saw him training with his teammates." He turned away from Sakura and addressed Shikadai again. "Lord Shikadai, you are strong and powerful and smart like Lord Gaara! You beat them using manipulation alone and not even a little bit of chakra!"

"Don't encourage him!" Sakura screamed. "Training is supposed to practice, and for all we know Shikadai could have hurt Himawari! How could you call that training?"

"Even unorthodox methods contribute towards a victory! In Suna, we take training very seriously-"

"We take training in Konoha very seriously too, thank you very much," Sakura argued back. "I don't know what kind of training methods Gaara puts you people through in Suna, but this isn't a matter of-"

The black-haired one piped up again, more serious this time, while the turbaned one glared at Sakura for failing to use an honorific in front of his beloved Kazekage's name. "When we were in the Suna Academy as kids, the Fourth Kazekage was still in power, remember?" he said, addressing his teammate. "The Fourth Kazekage despised weakness, so to pass shinobi graduation, we had to kill the shinobi in our class. I think his name was Teiru..."

Shikadai had a flashback to what Ryomen had said about the Fourth Kazekage. These two Suna ninja were a far cry from what Ryomen had been, so it was a surprise to Shikadai that none of them seemed to have anything favorable to say about Suna's late Kage. _Just who was that guy?_

Sakura had stiffened in silence at the morose anecdote, and the turbaned ninja awkwardly scratched the back of his head and said, "Yeah, so _that's_ what we call brutal..."

Promptly, the two ninja's somber mood was flicked off and their fanboying mode was turned on again. "But Lord Shikadai! I assure you that since Lord Gaara took power, Suna has been nothing like that! Sunagakure is now the best shinobi village ever because of everything Lord Kazekage has done!"

The two continued to blabber on about "Lord Gaara" this, "Lord Gaara" that, and as endearing their words sounded to Shikadai, his bemusement got the better of him and he turned to the two, clearing his throat and questioning, "Who are you two?"

The Suna shinobi promptly halted his gushing. "Ah, how silly of us to forget to introduce ourselves!" the turbaned one exclaimed. "I'm Korobi."

"I'm Yaoki, and we're friends of Lord Gaara's!"

Behind him, Shikadai could hear Sarada snickering-the almighty Kazekage had these two dorks for friends?

Shikadai, on the other hand, did not find it so amusing. Uncle Gaara was an introverted person, at most, and Shikadai rarely heard the man speak of his friends at all, outside of Konoha 12, of course. Then again, Shikadai realized, he'd never been in Sunagakure to meet Uncle Gaara's native friends, had he any.

Shikadai remembered the rather cold, hostile reception members of Konoha 12-Gaara's Leaf "friends"-had given the Kazekage during the redheaded leader's last visit. The man's nephew found he much preferred the warm attitude of admiration displayed by Gaara's Sand friends Yaoki and Korobi, and dorks or not, Shikadai found himself liking them already.

"Really? You're Uncle Gaara's friends?!"

"Yeah! We met him many years ago when we were lucky enough to be assigned on a mission with him! It was a joint mission with Konohagakure...of course, Lord Gaara was the most awesome ninja out of all of us."

It suddenly struck Sakura that she'd met Yaoki and Korobi before. So many years ago...on that mission against bandits with Gaara...She scowled at the fact that Yaoki and Korobi claimed that Gaara was more awesome than all the others of the group, of which she was a part.

"We weren't so sure about him at first, but he turned out to be a good guy!" Yaoki exclaimed. "Lord Gaara's loyal and protective of his friends, to say a few...we've been friends ever since!"

From somewhere behind Shikadai, Kiba snorted. "Dudes...sorry to disappoint you, but I think you've got it all wrong. I think you're just a couple of hopefuls wanting to be the Kazekage's friends, but you don't just become friends with someone like him after doing one mission with him."

"No," Korobi disagreed. Neither he nor Yaoki had even wanted to be Gaara's friends in the first place; they'd been terrified of him. Fate just played its part, however. "On the mission, we called Lord Gaara our friend, and then he asked us to say it again and then he..." Korobi started sniffing emotionally.

Recalling the story seemed to have the same touching effect on Yaoki, who finished with tears in his eyes, "Lord Gaara, he...smiled."

Behind him, Shikadai heard Team Konohamaru burst into laughter. Boruto, less frazzled from the earlier turn of events, snickered, "He _smiled_? What's the big deal about that?"

But for Shikadai, it was a big deal. He gaped. "Uncle Gaara _smiled_?"

Yaoki and Korobi dabbed their eyes. "I know! I'm sorry, I get so emotional every time I think about it," Yaoki smiled.

"It's no problem, I understand..." Shikadai assured. Sabaku no Gaara smiling was plenty to get emotional about.

Inner Sakura punched the air. _Now he acts all friendly and normal with a bunch of foreign strangers! Why can't Shikadai trust_ us?

"Um...Yaoki and Korobi...sirs?" It was Hinata's timid voice. They turned to look at her, and she still had Himawari wrapped around her arms. "Could you tell us...what you're doing here? In Konoha?"

"We're here to deliver a message!" Korobi replied.

"Then, uh...shouldn't you have reported it to the Hokage?" Hinata wondered if Naruto knew about the arrival of these two odd Suna ninja, and what message they had come to Konoha for.

Yaoki laughed and waved her off. "The Hokage already knows we're here! The message isn't for him, however; the message is from Lord Gaara to Lord Shikadai."

 _Oh, so_ that's _what they're here for..._ Hinata thought _. I wonder how Shikadai will react._

Shikadai looked up at the two Suna shinobi, surprise evident in his eyes. _Uncle Gaara asked them to come all the way here...for me?_

Korobi fiddled inside the bundle on his back and fished out a scroll tied neatly with a black ribbon and sealed with the crimson seal of the Sunagakure Kazekage.

Shikadai accepted the scroll wordlessly, his heart pounding in his ears. What message could Uncle Gaara have for him?

The scroll was light but felt significant in Shikadai's hand, as if it had some precious value. He felt warmth through it; did this scroll have Uncle Gaara's love inside?

His fingers hovered over the black ribbon that tied the scroll together. He realized that the thin piece of ebony cloth was a high-quality satin. _Nothing less from the Kazekage, of course_ , he mused, reminded constantly of his uncle's high importance. With one quick pluck, he dislodged the ribbon that kept his Uncle Gaara's love and message intact, feeling the strange desire to use it to tie up his hair. Then he remembered that he was a freaking _man_ , and that men didn't use satin ribbons of any kind to tie up their hair, even if it was black. He shoved the ribbon in his pocket to save it for his mom, even though his mother could be more of a man than he was, at times, and he wasn't sure how a single satin ribbon would be able to accessorize Temari's four ponytails. _Never mind_ , he thought. The inner voice chastised alongside him: _you freaking weirdo, overcontemplating damn ribbons when you've got a letter from the Kazekage_.

Hastily, he opened the scroll and greeted a short message in the neatest cursive handwriting he had ever encountered.

"Lord Gaara _never_ handwrites his letters; he's too busy! You must be really important to him for him to do that, he's never done anything this personal before," Yaoki commented.

"But that's a given," Korobi added.

The letter read:

 _Shikadai Nara:_

 _The Councils of Sunagakure and Konohagakure have jointly endorsed the Konoha-Suna Shinobi Exchange Program, in which shinobi of either village will stay in the other to train with a designated master for the sake of developing skills and strengthening the alliance._

 _On account of your skills and affiliation with both villages, you have been selected to pioneer this program. Sunagakure extends its welcome for you to make this village your second home and to study under the tutelage of the Fifth Kazekage._

Somehow, Shikadai knew that there was no Konoha-Suna Shinobi Exchange Program; or rather, there _was_ , but it was created for his sake. Uncalled tears sprung to his eyes.

 _We propose your extended stay in the village of Sunagakure, where you will be housed in the Kazekage Quarters. Two chunin from our village will travel to Konohagakure seven days from your reception of this letter in order to receive your acceptance or rejection of our invitation. Notify them of your decision, and should you desire and accept our proposal, they shall escort you home._

 _We look forward to working closely with you._

 _Best regards,_

 _SABAKU NO GAARA_

 _Fifth Kazekage of Sunagakure_

The letter ended, but the blood that was pumping in Shikadai's remained no less thundering. The message was, unsurprisingly, formal, for all outgoing mail from the Kazekage had to be reviewed by his Council, especially for such a sensitive issue as a shinobi exchange, but even within its detached and political context, Shikadai could sense bits of his Uncle Gaara's wise voice in it. He noted how he written, _"they shall escort you home."_

Home. Sunagakure.

The meaning of Uncle Gaara's message came crashing down upon him.

"I-is this...r-real?" Shikadai asked Yaoki and Korobi shakily.

"Of course it is!" Korobi squealed in excitement. "This is so exciting, Lord Shikadai! And I'll have you know that Lord Gaara has never accepted students, not since becoming Kazekage!"

Ino Yamanaka, the Konoha busybody, perked her ears up at this. "The Kazekage is taking in a student? When? Who?" she demanded, making her way over.

Shikadai ignored her, his hands tightening around the paper that held Uncle Gaara's neat handwriting.

Yaoki winked at him. "Lord Kazekage even told us to personally tell you that he, the Hokage, Lady Temari, and Shikamaru Nara had already taken care of the 'troublesome' details, so you would only have to worry about saying yes or no and the voyage there!"

 _So Mom knew._ He now understood on what "mission" Temari had embarked this morning.

"And Lord Kankuro said if you came to Suna he'd make you a life-sized version of your favorite puppet!" Korobi exclaimed.

Shikadai wondered which puppet Uncle Kankuro meant. "You know Uncle Kankuro too?"

"Oh my god, he called him _Uncle_ Kankuro!" Yaoki screamed.

"Of course he did, you dimwit, he's Lord Kankuro's and Lord Gaara's nephew, after all," Korobi stated. The declaration of this fact only seemed to make the two desert nin more excited.

Finally they calmed down. "Yes, of course we know Lord Kankuro as well! To know one of the beloved Sand Siblings is to know all of them! The famous Three Sand Siblings always work as one!"

Shikadai thought about this and remembered his inexplicable feeling of homesickness from this morning. His heart went out to his mother and he wondered how it must feel for her.

Then he suddenly realized that, talking to Yaoki and Korobi, that ache in his heart seemed to diminish.

"So for how long is Sunagakure going to be my second home?"

"From the last I heard, the Sunagakure Council had no fixed length of time, but I believe they would recommend anywhere around a year," Yaoki replied. "But don't get us wrong, Shikadai; that's just what the Council says. Sunagakure will always be your second home. We extend our welcome for you indefinitely."

Shikadai opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a dramatically loud female scream from behind him. He turned around to look at the source, despite already knowing what, or who, it was.

Ino gestured wildly at the letter in Shikadai's hands. He realized she'd read it over his shoulder and he scowled. "The Kazekage wants you to go to Suna to train with him?" she shrieked.

For a split second, Shikadai thought Ino was expressing enthusiasm on his behalf. _You naive brat, haven't you learned anything at all?_ the inner voice mocked him.

"Shikadai, you can't possibly be thinking of going to Suna!" she yelled. He blatantly covered his years, but she kept going. "You need your team _here_! In Konoha! Have you forgotten that you're part of Team Ino-Shika-Chou? You need Inojin and Chouchou! God, why didn't Shikamaru tell me anything?

"You're a Konoha shinobi, for crying out loud. And not just anyone; you're a Nara! No one can teach you the Nara Clan techniques better than your father, and no one can teach you the Ino-Shika-Chou combination techniques better than us!'

Shikadai decided that it would be too troublesome to point out to Ino that she sounded more like she was convincing herself than anything. She wouldn't have launched into such a tirade had she not believed he would actually consider leaving.

Ino bent down and through an arm around Shikadai's shoulders. "Shikadai would never leave us, right Shikadai? You love us too much?" The boy remained motionless. Then Ino crossed the line. "I mean, what could that god-forsaken, hot, dry village like Suna possibly have to offer you-"

With double the necessary force, Shikadai tore Ino's arms from around his shoulder, vengefully twisting her arm in the process. "Ow!" the woman cried. "What the hell was that for?" Ino had worked with Shikadai's father for many, many years, and the boy looked so much like Shikamaru that sometimes she expected him to react in the same way as the older Nara. Well, Shikadai used to be more like Shikamaru. That was obviously no longer the case.

"Did I ask for your opinion? Stupid, troublesome woman?" he spat venomously. Ino tried to look indignant, but a slight bit of fear radiated from her eyes at the dramatic turnaround in Shikadai's attitude.

From a distance, Sai thought, _this is bad._

"I was just-"

"No, you were just sticking your nose into business that wasn't your own, just like always," Shikadai cut her off. He shoved the letter into her face. "This letter is from Uncle Gaara to _me_. Do you see your name on it anywhere, _Ino Yamanaka_?"

Ino's face scrunched up. Shikadai had never so blatantly called her by her name before. "How dare you-"

"No, how dare you read _my_ letter and tell me how to feel about it? You don't _fucking_ know me, and this is none of your _goddamn_ business." He paused briefly, a bit amazed at the profanities he didn't know he possessed in his arsenal.

"Of course it's my business, Shikadai!" Ino replied heatedly, determined to get the last word even though she felt shocked and a little hurt at the way her teammate's son was treating her. "I'm your-"

"You're my _what_? Don't you dare finish that statement, Yamanaka, especially after what you dared say about Uncle Gaara's country. And Inojin told me you say bad things about Uncle Gaara too, so don't try to come up with any other lies." Shikadai seethed, pointing his kunai in her direction, only just realizing that he hadn't put it away since holding Himawari hostage.

Inojin gulped. _Shit_.

He huffed and shoved the kunai back into his couch, turning away from his teammate's mother with a look of disgust and utter disdain on his face. "You're nothing but _trouble_ to me. _I don't need you_."

He'd told his mother that morning that he didn't need his friends and she'd responded by saying she didn't need _him_ but life would be a lot shittier without him. That she wouldn't really be living at all. He'd tried to open his mind to Aunt Ino and the others on account of his mother's words, but now he found his mind completely blocked. He would not refute his statement. He didn't need them. Before, life had indeed been less shitty with them-Inojin, Chouchou, and the rest of them. But now, they were sucking the life out of him.

Ino backed away, tears stinging in her eyes. _This isn't the end of our discussion_ , she silently promised Shikadai, but right now she needed to back off and tend to her wounds. Shikadai's words had cut deep, and Ino couldn't be consoled by the notion that he probably didn't mean it, because chances were that he probably _did_.

Shikadai turned away from the people he _didn't need_ , wondering why they were trying so hard. These friends and comrades he had grown up with-the Konoha 12 and the shinobi who called themselves his teammates-acted almost as if _they_ needed _him_ , but Shikadai knew better.

 _You're a monster after all_ , the voice told him. _They think they need you because you covered yourself with a human guise for your whole life. But we tore away that fucking layer of fakeness. They're going to see what you really are, just like Himawari did, and then they won't need you anymore. They won't even_ want _you._

It should have been a frightening notion-that the people who had loved and cared for him for his whole life should throw him away. But he felt nothing. _I'm throwing_ them _away_ , he told himself. _Or perhaps I already have_. But then he suddenly felt a pang as he wondered whether anyone would be willing to call a monster such as himself "Lord Shikadai". _Would Sunagakure really want me...?_

He willed himself to be brave, reminding himself that Uncle Gaara had told him that he believed in him. Boldly, he looked into Yaoki's and Korobi's eyes. They had seen his crueler side through his display towards Aunt Ino, and they hadn't even seen everything yet.

He expected to see disgust in theirs eyes. Fear, repulsion. But search as he might, he found nothing but a look of seriousness and genuine concern in their eyes, and that was quickly replaced with fondness that lit up their faces when they saw their Lord Shikadai look at them. It was as if the nephew of their beloved friend and Kazekage was a light that lit up their beings.

He didn't know how he would feel towards these two charismatic Suna nin, but when looked into their eyes and found affection there, he was possessed by a sudden surge of possessiveness. These were Uncle Gaara's friends; now he wanted to make them _his_. And he wasn't about to share them with the audience of surrounding them now, so he offered-

"Hey, Yaoki and Korobi, right? I like you guys. Let's go somewhere where we can talk without all these troublesome people."

" _All these troublesome people_ -hey! Watch your mouth, Nara! That was a damn low blow!" Boruto, still angry at his friend, shouted at Shikadai. The Nara started walking away from the training field without paying the Uzumaki any regard. "Don't walk away from me, you bastard! I'm not finished with you yet!" Shikadai ignored him.

"Boruto, calm-" Hinata began.

Boruto eyed the ground beside him and noticed a stone the size of his fist. Swiftly, he bent down to pick it up and hurled it, aiming for the Nara heir's head.

All the blood that remained in Hinata's face drained away. _Oh no, this time, it's too late, Shikadai's Automatic Defence is going to-_

 _THUNK_

Shikadai turned in surprise at the sound of metal hitting something hard not too far behind his head.

Yaoki and Korobi were standing in defensive, protective stances over Shikadai. Yaoki brandished a kunai he'd just used to deflect the rock Boruto'd thrown.

"How dare you try to hurt Lord Shikadai?!" Korobi asked, aghast.

"Stop calling that asshole _Lord_ Shikadai!" Boruto countered. "It's so annoying and he doesn't deserve it!"

"How could you say that?" Yaoki cried. "He is the nephew of Lord Kazekage-he deserves nothing less!"

"Hell with that! He's not even from Suna!"

"Origin isn't significant to us! No matter what you say, Lord Shikadai will still be one of Sunagakure's most important youths."

Shikadai turned around and away from Boruto and the bickering sand nins, hiding the genuine smile that was playing on his lips.

Without another word, he began walking away, knowing full well that he didn't have to look to make sure that Yaoki and Korobi would follow him.

Inojin, Chouchou, Boruto, Himawari, Lee, and the present members of Konoha 12 watched in silent awe at the retreating backs of "Suna's most important youth" and the two enthusiastic shinobi.

Unbidden, Metal Lee pumped his fists into the air and called out, "My rival is most admirable! He has been invited to train with a exceptional shinobi in a foreign village in order to improve his skills and strengthen the Leaf's international alliances for the sake of his village! I must train twice as hard in order to keep up with him! Perhaps, if I burn with enough of the energy of youth, I will be invited to train in a foreign village as well!"

"That's the spirit, my son!" Rock Lee encouraged.

The others watched the Lees' display lamely. "Um...so, are we going to train...?" Himawari asked timidly.

Boruto looked at his little sister and shrugged, before throwing his hands into the air and complaining loudly, "How come no one calls _me_ Lord _Boruto_?"

* * *

"No, Lord Shikadai!"

Shikadai held three plump, round sticks of tasty sweets in his hand. "You don't want dango?"

"No-I mean-yes-but, we can't possibly allow you to pay for our share! We should be the ones-"

Shikadai rolled his eyes at Yaoki's and Korobi's antics. "Dudes, stop being so troublesome. What part of 'it's my treat' do you not understand?"

Yaoki and Korobi fumbled for words. "At least allow us to pay our share-in all honesty we would should be the ones treating you-we couldn't let the Kazekage's nephew-spend on us-"

"Look, it's my money, and I'll do with with my money whatever the hell I want regardless of what you say." He held out their dango sticks to them. "And if I want to use it to buy you two dango, then that's sure what I'm going to do. If you insist on paying, you can go ahead and get yourselves another serving or two, but that isn't going to get you out of _my_ treat."

Gratefulness shimmered in their eyes as Yaoki and Korobi accepted the desserts from Shikadai, who again rolled his eyes.

"You're the best, Lord Shikadai!" they cried, grinning widely.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Troublesome." He waved them off, secretly pleased at himself for having pleased his two new Suna friends.

Shikadai watched as the two Suna nin happily lapped up their dango. "So, who are the two chunin coming in a week?"

"Their names are Shinchi and Icho," Korobi replied. "They're two of the most talented young shinobi in Suna and they're obvious favorites of the Kazekage. It's no surprise he sent them for this mission."

"Most shinobi are assigned to squads of three, but Shinchi and Icho have been a pair for as long as anyone can remember, so Lord Gaara decided to keep them that way." Yaoki added.

 _Shinchi and Icho_...where had heard of them before? _Oh right_ , Shikadai remembered, _they were the two shinobi who had rescued Inojin, Chouchou, and Mirai from the mission to hell last week_. Shikadai had met them briefly when they'd come to visit him at the hospital, but he'd been disinterested at the time and the only bell in his head that the names of those two rang at the moment was that the kunoichi seemed as troublesome as his mother.

He absently wrapped his tongue around the sticky, sugary rice ball, inwardly marveling at how Yaoki and Korobi were _voluntarily_ -if not more than willingly-spending time in the presence of someone like him.

He suddenly remembered his own Uncle Gaara's similar expression of surprise when Shikadai suggested to spend the day with him when he'd visited Konoha last...how his friends and acquaintances separated themselves form Uncle Gaara, how Uncle Gaara separated himself from the rest of the human race...

"Hey Yaoki, Korobi..." he began thoughtfully. "What do you think of Uncle Gaara...?"

The two looked at the Nara boy in his surprise. There was silence for a moment and Shikadai wondered what their answer was that required so much contemplation.

But when they spoke, there was no hint of contemplation in their voices, simply definitive finality. Yaoki spoke first: "He is the single best thing that has ever happened in our lives, Lord Shikadai. The best thing that has ever happened to all of Sunagakure. Without him, there would be no Sunagakure." _Hadn't Shikadai's mother told him something similar once?_ "Suna's now one of the, if not _the_ , best ninja village in the whole world now! We remember how Sunagakure was like before Lord Gaara became Kazekage...so...but he was like a light that brought Sunagakure out of the darkness..."

"Lord Gaara is different than everybody else...better," Korobi continued. "When he first became Kazekage a lot of people weren't happy about it." Shikadai looked up in surprise. "He was like...the sun rising over a village that had been plagued with for too long. So a lot of people were blinded by the brightness and blamed Lord Gaara for _everything_. Of course, they were just a bunch of fools who couldn't recognize him as something that was essential for their survival and someone who gave them worth." Korobi spoke with undiluted admiration.

"You should have seen how Sunagakure was like before Lord Gaara became Kazekage-well no, you shouldn't, because it was pretty bad. It was hard not to find chaos and animosity everywhere." Yaoki shuddered. "You could hardly call it a shinobi village at all. But Sunagakure was reborn when Lord Gaara became Kazekage...you know, Suna is so close-knit now that it's nothing like a hidden village with several hundred thousand citizens at all, it's more like one living breathing organism! And if that were the case, Lord Gaara would be, like, the brain, or something."

"No, I'm pretty sure Lord Gaara would be the heart," Korobi countered with confidence.

"No, he'd be both!"

"No, I think Sunagakure is a living creature of its own right, and then Lord Gaara is like its, super protective and loving parent."

Shikadai decided to cut in before Yaoki and Korobi could start to unwittingly corrupt his mind by comparing Uncle Gaara to more uncanny things. "You guys are lucky to be part of it."

Yaoki and Korobi laughed at it him. "Don't say that, Lord Shikadai!" Korobi told him. "You're a part of it too!"

"But I've never even been to Sunagakure."

"But you will soon!" Yaoki cried excitedly, seemingly having no doubt that Shikadai would choose to go to Suna by the week's end. "Besides, that doesn't matter. Where you are physically doesn't matter, it's where you are in here." He patted his hand over his heart. "And Lord Shikadai, I'm pretty sure you're in the hearts of everyone in Sunagakure, just like Lord Gaara is!"

Shikadai swallowed back his tears. "I...didn't even know."

"Of course, it's all thanks to Lord Gaara!"

 _Here goes the fanboying again._

"I love him so much, I even got a charm with a lock of his hair!" Yaoki held out a crimson object proudly.

"You dummy," Korobi laughed at him. "Those are mass-produced by Lord Gaara's fan club! Lord Gaara may have a head full of very abundant and attractive hair, but it's not possible for even _him_ to have so much as the fan club makes."

Shikadai sweatdropped-it wasn't that it wasn't heartwarming that Yaoki and Korobi were so enthusiastic over the Kazekage, but even Shikadai's opinion they were overdoing it. Shikadai might have deduced that they were gay for Gaara if not for the fact that his sharp and analytical eye had caught that none of their mannerisms suggested it-not that he would have any problems if they indeed "swung that way". He had been raised to _never, ever_ discriminate against anyone for _any_ reasons at all-his mother was especially adamant about this. Still, it would be awkward to be on a casual outing for dango with two men who lusted after his uncle's "very abundant and attractive hair".

A thought suddenly came to Shikadai's mind-if the male citizens of Sunagakure acted this way already, what were the female fangirls of Sabaku no Gaara like...?

He shook that potentially scary thought from his head.

"What's Sunagakure like?" he asked.

"Well, for the weather, it's dry and hot during the day and dry and cold during the night," Korobi answered. "The buildings in Suna are mostly made out of sandstone, since we have more than enough of it...concrete buildings are sprouting up here and there, though. Wood isn't very common there for obvious reasons. Suna used to look really bare, but Lord Gaara has been promoting culture and the arts since the end of the war. Murals are really popular in Suna now since the paint looks very nice on the sandstone. The buildings in Suna all have a slightly sparkly look to them because they're made out of sand, and add the mural art on top of that, and you get a city full of vividly, shining colors."

"You should see the city at sunset or sunrise," Yaoki commented, practically glowing with national pride. "The whole city looks like it's made out of gold."

"Suna isn't like Konoha," Korobi continued. "Konoha is a sprawling city; it's concentrated in the center and then it thins out. But Sunagakure has very well defined parameters, and while we often expand the city walls there's nothing much outside of that. The desert around Suna is as much a part of the village as the forests here are a part of Konoha, if not more so; we don't live in the desert, we _live_ the desert.. From the Suna city walls, you can look out into the desert and see an endless horizon and an endless sky. On most days there isn't a single speck of cloud, and the sky is a very, very beautiful blue."

Shikadai's former pastime had been cloud watching, but this barely raised a concern in his hand at the moment. He found himself quick to ask, "But there are stars? At night?"

Yaoki's and Korobi's eyes brightened. "Oh yes," Yaoki replied. At night, there are more stars than there is sand."

"Whoa," Shikadai breathed.

"But that's not the best part," Yaoki went on. "Sunagakure's moon is what's most amazing."

"The moon?"

"Yes. It's hard to explain...but the moon always feels closer in Suna than anywhere else in the moon. It's the same moon that the whole world sees in its night skies, but in Suna, that moon is special because because the people of Suna all look at it and give the moon a part of their soul, and the moon gives us part of its _soul_. The moon is a part of every person in Suna, every person in Suna is a part of the moon."

The description painted a beautiful picture in Shikadai's mind. He yearned to go the place where the starry sky and moon of the heavens were closer.

"How about the people?" he asked.

The two Suna ninja smiled. "If you like us, then you'd like them," Korobi smiled. "They're very unique. Sunagakure isn't nearly as diverse as Konoha, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. We don't have many immigrants at all, because Sunagakure isn't an easy place to live, nor is it really possible to learn. Sunan people are very adaptable, but it's hard for outsiders to adapt to Suna. We're very tolerant of other peoples, but the sense of Sunagakure identity is very strong, perhaps more so than for any other village. There's a saying that goes something like, you can't _become_ Sunan because you have to be _born_ Sunan. The desert will eject anyone who doesn't belong, and the only way you can survive there is to have Sunan blood."

"Sounds like I'll have a hard time there."

Yaoki laughed, waving Shikadai off. "Nonsense, Lord Shikadai! You have Suna blood, not to mention from Sunagakure's most powerful bloodline."

"There's something that all people of Suna have in common," Korobi told Shikadai. "We all share loyalty and pride for our home country and love for our great Kazekage. We all have the same unwavering faith in Lord Gaara, and he often tells us that the bonds between us make us one ane the same because we all share his-Sunagakure's-great dream."

"Sunagakure's great dream? And what's that?" Shimada asked.

"There isn't one single definition for Sunagakure's dream. In essence, Lord Gaara lets us decide what that dream is."

"So really, Sunagakure's dream is a combination of the dreams of all our people," Yaoki finished.

Shikadai became increasingly confused. He hadn't thought that the seemingly cluelesss Yaoki and Korobi were capable of expressing such philosophical concepts. When he'd asked the question, Shikadai had expected a simple reply in return. If he'd asked any Leaf shinobi what Konoha villagers were like, he doubted he'd have received an answer like these Suna nin's. He guessed this was the difference between having Uncle Gaara as opposed to Uncle Naruto as a Kage.

"But I thought you said all the people of Sunagakure share the same dream..."

Yaoki and Korobi smiled at him as if he had just made a rather naïve statement. "That's right. So just what is Sunagakure's dream? It's not what the government wants, or what the Council or the Elders want, and it's not even what the Kage personally wants. It's what the people want, 'cause without the people there'd be no Suna!" Yaoki said.

"So you see," said Korobi, "Sunagakure's dream is made of the individual dreams of the its citizens, collectively."

"How is it possible to maintain unity that way?" Shikadai questioned.

"It's completely possible," Korobi answered. "According to Lord Gaara, individuality is key to having unity among a people."

Shikadai tried hard to wrap his mind around Uncle Gaara's ideology. It sonded decent—great, really—but was it really possible? As of late, Shikadai seemed to have been butting heads with the rest of Konoha, even though they claimed wish him well. If he maintained aspects of his current "individuality", how in the world was Konoha going to remain united? How in the world would his own dream—whatever the hell that was-lie in tandem with Konoha's? How did that work in Suna? "Wouldn't certain individuals...I dunno...clash? I mean, everyone can't possibly just agree with each other and get along perfectly. That would be like asking for utopia."

Yaoki nodded his assent. "Suna is by no means utopia, if that's what you're asking. It'd be foolish to think so. There's no such thing as perfection."

It was said with such calmness, such acceptance, that Shikadai truly realized, despite their eccentric quirks, Yaoki and Korobi really did deserve more credit than they were given.

"Lord Gaara insists that the first thing a shinobi—or anyone, for that matter—should learn is acceptance. Unconditional acceptance for your own self and for your comrades, acquaintances, and fellow villagers. Hard work is important, but love and fraternity isn't something anyone should have to work for. Anyone deserves it just for being born!" Yaoki said. "Lord Gaara wants more than anything for his people to create strong bonds with one another. The people we encounter in our lives have the ability to change or fate, and Lord Gaara wants it to be for the better. Once you've created bonds with your comrades, they become precious to you and a part of your dreams, and you become a part of theirs."

"Everyone may have their own unique dream," Korobi continued to explain, "but if they share strong bonds with their precious people, then their dreams will be interwoven some way or another. Everyone in Suna is connected in this manner."

"Lord Gaara likes to call each person in Suna a grain of sand," explained Yaoki. Shikadai raised a brow. "I know that sounds a little silly-"

"-Nothing Lord Gaara says is silly-" Korobi interjected-

"-because grains of sands are so insignificant, but Lord Gaara reminded us that a single speck of sand is the basic unit of a desert like the Wind Country. You can't break a desert down into anything more or less, unlike the forest which you can separate into the trees and the soil and the rocks and all that. In the desert there's just sand...and every grain of it is essential, because if it isn't you might as well have no sand at all and then you'd have no desert..."

"A single grain of sand can be beautiful in its own right and have its own shape and color. But it you put a lot of single beautiful and unique grains of sand together you can get something even more beautiful!" Korobi finished.

"Wow..." Shikadai breathed, a bit speechless.

Yet another _troublesome_ thought came to his restless mind. "What happens if someone's not worthy of being of grain of sand?"

" _Anyone_ can be worthy," Yaoki argued optimistically.

"No," Shikadai insisted firmly, surprising both Yaoki and Korobi. "What do you do when someone is different? And by that, I mean that-that person's bonds with his comrades have broken? Or if he was unable to forge them in the first place? What does the desert do to a grain of sand that goes against its nature? What if that grain of sand doesn't want to be part of the desert? What if that grain of sand... _hates_ the desert? What happens to those freaks of nature? What if a grain of sand turns against the desert and the dreams of the rest of the sand? What if the grain of sand's dream goes against the desert's? What if the grain of sand's dream would... _destroy_ the desert? What if-"

"Lord Shikadai!" Korobi cried out in surprise. "Please, forgive me interrupting, but your curiosity amazes me! Not to mention your capability of thinking of such dilemmas...certainly, mistakes happen, even in Sunagakure, but-why are you-of all people-so worried?"

"Don't be such a worrywart, Lord Shikadai!" Yaoki insisted.

"I know, I know, but-I was just-thinking..." Shikadai sighed. He looked Yaoki and Korobi in the eye seriously. "What if I were a bad person?" he asked lowly.

The two Suna nin looked at him incredulously before bursting out into laughter. "Lord Shikadai, a bad person?" Korobi cried, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Why, that's just-"

"Stop laughing," Shikadai murmured a bit angrily, and the two immediately did so. "I'm serious. You guys like me, right?"

They nodded fervently. "You're Lord Kazekage's nephew, so you're practically royalty to us-in a good way, of course!"

"Yeah-Suna's little prince!"

"So you consider me to be a part of Suna," Shikadai continued, silently thanking them for their 'Suna's little prince' comment. "But just say, what if I had done something that...went against your...and Sunagakure's values? What would you think of me then?" He gulped. "What if I were to commit some crime and do something that you would normally hate? If I did something...vile and...bad?" It's too late for that! the voice growled in his head. _You've already done something vile and bad...in fact, you_ are _vile and bad_. Shikadai swallowed thickly. "Would you...hate me?"

Shikadai knew that had he posed this question to his family, the answer would have been no, but that was a given, since they shared the same blood. To his own surprise, he could confidently pose this question to the friends he'd grown up with and get yes for an answer and walk away unruffled. But for some reason, Shikadai cared more than he dared admit what Yaoki and Korobi-these two Suna nin he'd only known for an hour or so, whose appearances and behavior betrayed their inner wisdom-would think.

Yaoki and Korobi blinked at Shikadai's questions. They realized the gravity and sincere concern with which Shikadai asked them. They did not, however, grow suspicious at the implications of his questions, instead taking them unquestionably to heart and answering them sincerely.

"Lord Shikadai," Yaoki responded kindly, using a tone of voice used by a big brother to a beloved younger sibling. "You must understand that what we feel for you is what we feel because of _who you are_. You are the only one who can truly define who you really are, but it is not our place to decide that for you. So we love you for being Lord Shikadai, I guess you could say...unconditionally. No matter what you may choose to be."

"There is a difference between a crime and its offender, Lord Shikadai," Korobi added.

Shikadai furrowed his brows. "So you'd just let me get away with it-"

"Oh no, no," Korobi laughed. "Every action comes with a consequence. That's inevitable for a successful society to function. But no matter what we have to do to a person so they may pay for their mistakes, that is entirely different from how we actually view that person."

"Sometimes that's what really counts," Yaoki quipped.

"Exactly," Korobi continued. "So first, we have to accept whatever it is a person's done-" Shikadai again felt a jarring sensation as he remembered his mother uttering all too similar words-"and then we have to ask ourselves what we did wrong to make that person turn out that way-why our bonds with that person weren't strong enough to guide him in the right direction."

"What? You'd blame yourself?" Shikadai asked, face scrunched up in confusion. "But what good would it be blaming yourself for what someone else did?"

"Remember what we told you about Sunagakure being one giant organism in it of its own right?" Yaoki reminded Shikadai. "All of us a part of one being. For example, if I were to kill someone-not that I would do that! Without a reason, anyway-with my bare hands, would you blame my hands for committing the crime? Or would you just blame me?"

Shikadai's mouth formed an "O" as he absorbed the words that Yaoki and Korobi had just imparted; the two looked back at him expectantly.

Finally, he nodded. In a quiet voice, he said, "I understand."

The two nin perked up. "We're so glad!" Yaoki exclaimed.

"Lord Gaara would be proud of us!"

Shikadai smirked at the return of their eccentric antics. "Seriously, thank you, Yaoki, Korobi. I owe you one."

"But you've already treated us to dango! That is more than enough from you, Lord Shikadai."

"Please. The dango was my treat to you as a friend." Shikadai swore the two were close to swooning when he declared them himself their "friend". "But now I seriously owe you one."

"Really?"

"Mm."

Shikadai finished his dango and looked up curiously when he realized that silence had fallen over the two talkative nin. He was a bit startled to see them staring at him intently. He suddenly felt self-conscious-although he realized he should have felt this way a long time ago, with their calling him "Lord Shikadai" and all.

"Um...what is it?" he hesitantly asked.

"Say...Lord Shikadai...you have a lot of hair. And it's long, too," Korobi remarked.

 _Well this is weird_ , Shikadai thought. "Umm...thanks? I guess?"

"I already have a charm with a lock of Lord Gaara's hair," Yaoki said, once again displaying the crimson object, "but apparently it's fake. But Lord Shikadai has so much hair-perhaps you could spare a little bit so I could get a real one?"

Korobi jumped up and gasped. "Authentic strands from the Kazekage bloodline! Could I have some too, Lord Shikadai?"

Shikadai laughed nervously-and awkwardly. None of his friends, no matter how close, had craved for his hair before. "Umm...sure, I guess. I guess I do owe you, huh?"

Quicker than Shikadai could blink, Yaoki had whipped out a pair of scissors with which he could procure the "authentic strands from the Kazekage bloodline." Shikadai eyed it nervously. "Uhhh...just...don't cut too much, I guess. I don't care much about appearances but I sure as hell don't want to be bald yet."

"I assure you, Lord Shikadai, it'd be impossible for you to look anything but dashing with or without any hair at all!" Korobi assured. Shikadai did not feel assured.

"Still, though..."

The boy gulped as he saw two Suna nin with hungry looks on their faces descending upon him with a pair of scissors meant to collect his black locks.

* * *

Shikadai didn't think too much about it when he saw his father waiting for him at the door to the Nara family home when he returned that afternoon. He was a genius, after all, and he deduced that Uncle Naruto was giving his father time off work, just like he was his mother, because of their family's special circumstances this particular week.

It was odd, however, that his normally lethargic, cigarette-smoking dad Shikamaru Nara was standing faithfully at the door, waiting for his son to come back, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other holding a glass of cool water.

Still, it was too troublesome to ask his father why he was doing something as troublesome as idly waiting for Shikadai with a glass of water, so Shikadai simply wordlessly accepted it. He was not even particularly thirsty, but for some reason, the liquid tasted sweet on his tongue and slid pleasurably down his throat.

He returned the empty glass to Shikamaru.

His father smiled at him in a manner that looked slightly strained but brutally earnest at the same time.

"Don't be thirsty. It's troublesome," Shikamaru advised Shikadai while padding away.

It didn't take five seconds after entering the kitchen that Shikamaru found himself pinned to the wall by his overly-strong wife. _And_ I'm _supposed to be the man in this relationship_ , he thought. _Yeah right._

"Spill," Temari growled at him.

"What, the water?" Shikamaru asked sarcastically. "Sorry to break it to you, but there's no water left to spill in this cup." He held out the empty glass. "Your son drank all of it."

Temari did not yank the glass from his hand or whack him on the back of the head, and _that_ was what started to make Shikamaru feel scared. Instead, she said lowly, "I don't have time for your fucking games, Nara. What was that all about?"

Shikamaru sighed in defeat. "Look, Temari, he doesn't have much time left here. As his father I wanted to give him a home but he doesn't consider this place his home anymore. And now he's obviously going through a crucial phase in his life and it hurts to see that his mother and her brothers are the only ones who can help him, while I have to stand to the side and watch like some fucking useless piece of shit."

Temari's eyes softened slightly.

"I've been to Suna before and it's damn dry over there," Shikamaru continued. "If Shikadai's going to live there he's going to find out the hard way just how precious water can be. Don't laugh at me for being sentimental, but I really just wanted to give him something to remember me by. Water can be the most precious gift to someone in the desert when it counts, so maybe over the next year, when he's baking to death in Suna and he decides to take a drink of water, he'll think of us and remember that he still has a home here."

For the first time sine their fight (the two of them really knew how to hold a grudge), Temari let down all of the fierce and angry barriers before her eyes and softened herself to Shikamaru. "My _troublesome_ idiot wants to be a good daddy," she half-mocked, half-praised.

Shikamaru smiled; the Temari he loved was finally back. "It's the least I can do so he doesn't wind up too much like his _mother_ 's side," he drawled, smirking.

"You married the wrong woman if you didn't want your kid to turn out like his mother," Temari smirked back, leaning in close to Shikamaru's face, tickling his nose with her warm, light breath-

Before she pulled away, swiftly taking the empty water glass in his hand along with her. "You've much to do before you deserve any of _that_ , crybaby."

"Fucking tease," he complained, though the smile still played at his lips.

She turned away from her husband, throwing a final comment over her shoulder, "You're doing it all wrong. People have to be able to _find_ water in Suna if they want to survive. You're not helping him any if you just hand it to him on a silver platter. _Genius_."

The days slid by after Shikadai's initial meeting with Yaoki and Korobi.

Shikamaru knew that playing shougi with his son wouldn't be a good idea; he'd heard from Kurenai what had happened during the previous game. He also knew that talking to him wouldn't be a good idea; Gaara was the only one who would be able to through to him now. Shikamaru had long since realized that while he had passed down a significant portion of his Nara genes to Shikadai, a petty bloodline like his own could not overpower the much stronger Kazekage bloodline that also resided within his son. His son was now bearing the burden of his maternal heritage, and Shikamaru knew that as much as he was able to sympathize, he wouldn't be able to understand. He cursed all the sufferings that Temari's family had been through, and the continued sufferings that were now being imposed on his son, and he cursed the fact that as much as he wanted to be a good father to Shikadai, he really was just a naive spectator from a carefree, trouble-free family. Shikamaru accepted the fact that he'd been the branch on which Shikadai had grown up, but now it was time for his boy to open his wings and fly away. _I thought I'd have more time to watch him grow up. He's only twelve._ _Well, I always be here if he needs a tree branch to stop and rest on._ The best thing he could do now was to let Shikadai go.

And one other thing.

Shikadai found himself taking a liking for sitting by the window and looking out of it-something, he realized, that Uncle Gaara was also fond of doing. He likened himself to a bird caged in Konoha, a place he'd thought was a home but was now turning into a prison. Time was ticking by, however, and it'd only be a matter of time before he'd get to see Konohagakure from the outside. He took his time to memorize what it looked like from within his prison cell.

Every day, when Shikadai approached the window, he found a glass of cool water waiting for him, the clear liquid reflecting the golden sunlight in a strangely hypnotizing manner. For the many hours that he would sit and observe Konoha from the glass pane called a window, he would slowly savor the water, saving it so that more of his time might be blessed with a precious drop.

Seven days passed since he had received Uncle Gaara's letter.

In a manner that was almost ritualistic, Shikadai made his way to sit by the windowpane-he barely did anything else these days. He sat down and looked at the sill, only to find that instead of a glass of water, a large canteen was awaiting his arrival.

He picked up it up and weighed it in his hands, feeling and hearing the valuable liquid sloshing around inside it.

He inexplicably realized, without reason, that this was the last water he would find in a long time. The glasses of water that had been left waiting for him for the past week had been enough to sustain him for his hours by the window; but this time, the canteen would have to sustain him for an immeasurable journey.

He remembered its sweet taste and decided to save the water.

Still gripping the canteen tightly in his hands, he leaned forward and peered out the window, looking at the prosperous green city he had for so long called home-and that he no longer did.

When Shikadai heard the slow, lethargic footsteps approaching him from behind, he needed not turn around to identify to whom they belonged.

Keeping his eyes trained on the image of the village of Konoha outside the glass pane, he kept his ears alert for whatever Shikamaru might have to say to him.

What he did not anticipate, however, was the distinct loosening feeling on his scalp as the hair tie that kept his ponytail in place was gently released. His black hair cascaded down onto his shoulders before he had a chance to realize what was happening. In confusion, he turned to look with questioning eyes to his father, but was stopped when he felt warm breath in his hair.

Shikadai's hair was a little past his shoulders and a bit spiky on the top when it was tied up, and Shikamaru inhaled the dark locks affectionately. It was different from his own, which fell strictly straight when not in a ponytail. Many people remarked that Shikadai was an uncanny copy of his father, but Shikamaru believed that was what the classic Nara ponytail led them to believe-Shikadai had Temari's teal eye color and the Sand Siblings' facial structure, and, when his hair was flowing freely, the Sand Siblings' unruly hair. Now he even had Uncle Gaara's rimmed eyes. Shikamaru looked proudly at the boy he called his son.

He placed his hand on Shikadai's shoulder. "Hey," he greeted softly. Shikadai continued looking at him in confusion. _H_ _e's been living under the Nara image for too long. Under my image for too_ _long._ "It's time for you to stop being me. It's time for you to start being _you_."

Shikamaru handed the hair tie back to Shikadai, silently letting him know that he no longer had to use it to put his Nara image in his place. He was his own person now.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Shikadai felt himself completely let his guard down, softening his eyes before the man he was proud to call his father. The voice in his head stayed quiet and he felt an odd peace.

"Shikadai! Shikamaru! Lunch!" Temari called from the kitchen. Shikadai smirked when Shikamaru immediately grumbled under his breath.

Father and son walked into the dining room side by side to see Temari setting the table. Shikadai engrained this scene into his memory, for he never knew if this might be the last time.

"About time you two lazy asses came along," Temari chided.

"Troublesome woman, all you had to do was set the table. I was the one who cooked today."

"Only after I made you do it, crybaby."

Shikamaru smirked and Shikadai smiled, desperately clinging on to the sense of satisfaction that he was feeling right now with his family and at the same time silently despairing that such things were not made to last. As the seconds ticked by, he could already feel the content and happiness slipping out of his poor grasp.

Stop this, he told himself, happy that he was the one telling himself this, not some unsolicited voice in his head. _Just hold on to what sanity feels like while you can._

"Shikadai." As it had so many times, his mother's gruff voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm...?" Shikadai replied casually.

"..Aunt Ino is throwing you a party."

Sanity flew out the window.

Shikadai had half the mind to stand up and start yelling profanities and half the mind to slump in defeat. Instead, he settled for staring at his mother disbelievingly with googly eyes. "Was the only reason that woman was born to be troublesome?"

Shikamaru smiled behind his hand; Ino was his friend and all, but he himself had thought similar thoughts countless times of the blonde busybody. He simply hadn't communicated them as _directly_ as his son had.

Temari remained unruffled. "It's later today."

Shikadai had as assumed as much. Today was the seventh day since he'd received Uncle Gaara's letter.

"She's throwing it at the Hokage's house," Shikamaru supplied.

Shikadai scowled. _That wily woman_ , he thought, _she knews very well it'd be hard for me to refuse the Hokage_. "He agreed?"

"Uncle Naruto thought it would be a nice idea to throw you a goodbye party. Aunt Ino insists it's a celebration of your release from the hospital since your first mission outside the village. Call it what you want."

"I don't want _it_."

"I know," Shikamaru and Temari answered at the same time.

Shikadai sighed. "Do I have to...?" he asked reluctantly.

"No," Shikamaru and Temari again answered simultaneously.

Shikadai sighed again. His parents were allowing to decide whether or not he would provide attendance to the troublesome affair, but he was aware of the silent imploration in their eyes-whether or not they were aware of it, he didn't know-that he would at least make the attempt. To see his friends and teammates as such-and not as enemies. Shikadai didn't know if he could-he was quite sure he couldn't-but he couldn't refuse the look in his parents' eyes.

Getting up, he grumbled, "How many times have I told that woman I don't need this? I don't need some damned party, and I don't need _her_." Sighing, he started walking out of the room. "I'm gonna get ready."

Shikamaru and Temari silently let him go, but before Shikadai fully exited the room, he paused and asked over his shoulder, "Where are Shinchi and Icho staying?"

Temari immediately recognized the names of the two Suna chunin. "At the inn by the Hokage Tower reserved for foreign dignitaries."

Shikadai quirked a brow. "The place Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankuro normally stay?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that place reserved for V.I.P.'s?"

Shikamaru chuckled. "They are V.I.P.'s, at least this time round they are. They are escorts for an extremely important figurehead in both Suna and Konoha, after all."

 _That means me_ , Shikadai realized. "Hn." He walked out of the room. He could feel the dreaded monster in his mind awakening from its slumber, stretching its limbs and preparing for flight.

Shikamaru and Temari watched their son's retreating back.

In a low whispering tone, Shikamaru asked Temari, "Has he packed anything yet? ...For his upcoming trip?"

In the same volume of voice, Temari replied, "Nope. Not a single thing."

"For a whole year, and not even a single...?" Shikamaru pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't have expected more. This is pretty in character for him, but...the thing is, I doubt he didn't pack because of laziness this time."

Temari nodded. "It's because of...lack of necessity. There's nothing he not willing to leave behind."

* * *

The Nara family had walked in silence to the Hokage's home, Shikamaru and Temari on either side of Shikadai, whose hourglass was tucked snugly as ever in his pouch with his new canteen of water now strapped to his belt.

Aunt Hinata and Uncle Naruto had smilingly opened the door together and welcomed the Nara family in. The four adults immediately engaged in lively conversation (initiated by Naruto, obviously), while entering the house through the front hallway. Shikadai relished in the relative quietness of the entire abode. He and his parents were the first arrivals on this particular day, and he knew the peace wouldn't last for long-not if the party, which he equated to _hell_ in his mind, was going to soon break loose.

Shikadai shook his head at the way the four adults seemed to have completely forgotten his existence-save for Aunt Hinata, who threw him a quick and kind smile-once they had started talking. Not that he minded, he was thanking the heavens for this moment he could have to himself (Boruto and Himawari appeared to not be home). While his and his friends' parents settled down to talk in the kitchen, Shikadai wandered aimlessly along the spacious Uzumaki living room.

Shikadai began unconsciously taking in the differences between this home and his own. The Uzumakis lived in a large abode-thanks to Naruto being the Hokage, and the living room was graced with floor-length glass doors that overlooked Hokage Mountain. _The view outside just might make you forget what this really is...a prison cell window._

Shikadai cursed. The voice was making its unsolicited opinion again.

He went to the cabinets and found their tops littered with photograph after photograph after photograph. There were a few framed memories in the Nara home, but none nearly as many as the Uzumakis'.

Shikadai stopped when he reached one particular photograph-or photographs, rather. It was single frame that was foldable, with one picture slot on one side and another on the other. The first photograph depicted Uncle Naruto and four other individuals. Uncle Naruto held up an obnoxious peace sign, which inadvertently completely blocked out the face of one of the four other individuals. Shikadai realized that the two other men and the one woman were the Raikage, Mizukage, and Tsuchikage. On the other hand, the one whose face had been obscured by Uncle Naruto's peace sign was depicted on the second photograph of the picture frame: Uncle Naruto stood with an arm draped around his shorter contemporary, the Kazekage, Sabaku no Gaara. The latter man actually sported a smile.

Shikadai's heart swelled at the thought that Uncle Naruto might consider Uncle Gaara more important to him than the other Kage-more important to him than just the leader of an allied nation. He scrutinized the photograph and noticed, in the top left hand corner, all-too-familiar cursive handwriting:

 _We will never again be alone._

On the top right hand corner, in a childish scrawl, was written:

 _Best Friends Forever! 3 ^_^ :D_

"That's pretty cool, isn't it?"

Shikadai spun around, not having noticed that the adults' conversation had died down due to the fact that its loudest contributor had temporarily left them. Uncle Naruto was standing over Shikadai with a bright grin adorning his tan face. The boy had no idea if Naruto knew about the stunt he'd pulled off with Himawari the other day-considering that Hinata had witnessed it, he probably did. But made no show of being upset on his lit face. Shikadai blamed an invisible magnetic pull that was now tugging the corners of his own lips upwards. Then his eyes slid down to the Hokage's arm, which was hidden suspiciously behind his back.

"It's one of my favorites," the Hokage continued, gesturing at the photo of him and his "best friend forever 3 ^_^ :D". "I'll never try to compete with that guy..." with his free hand Uncle Naruto pointed at Gaara's face, "he's just too awesome. You're one lucky bastard, Shikadai! But don't forget that Uncle Naruto is pretty cool too, believe it! Got it?"

Uncle Naruto revealed the hand hidden behind his back. In it was a small camera.

Shikadai's eyes widened. Naruto inwardly smiled: with the rings around Shikadai's eyes and his hair down (he hadn't tied it up since his father had pulled out the ponytail), he looked exceptionally like his redheaded uncle. Yet Gaara could never pull off the facial expressions Shikadai could make.

Before Shikadai could respond, Naruto had thrust the object into Shikadai's hands.

"This is your Hokage speaking, Shikadai! Your mission for the next year is to capture hilarious private moments of the Kazekage!" Naruto yelled. His own words suddenly seemed to register in his brain. "Uh-uh-" he stammered, "I mean-in a good-not...inappropriate...way-believe it..."

The Hokage scampered off.

Shikadai fiddled with the camera in his hands and plopped down on one of the Uzumakis' soft plush couches. He eyed the door. Soon, swarms of people would be coming through this way. Perhaps he could make it through this party yet.

There was knock on said door. Shikadai watched Aunt Hinata rush from the kitchen to answer it. He wondered who would the next arrival be.

The door opened. _Oh, it's just Mitsuki. He's always one of the first to arrive. The party's getting started-_

A wave of skull-crushing pain suddenly flooded Shikadai's head, and amidst the thundering rush of his blood and the ringing in his years he heard a demonic cry, _This is the END!_

Shikadai's entire body jerked in pain and surprise; unnoticed by him, Mitsuki and Aunt Hinata looked at him. He tried his best to quell the raging tempest within him, whilst trying to decipher the cryptic meaning of the inner voice's words. Neither attempt got very far, and he found his elbows resting on his knees while his hands clutched at his head, his entire body a quivering mess.

 _The clock is ticking...the time is coming...this is the end!_ he heard.

Shikadai willed the voice away to an extent where it was simply echoing loudly and eerily off the chambers of his brain. He looked up to see Aunt Hinata and Mitsuki standing over him, looking down at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" Mitsuki asked guardedly.

Shikadai attempted to smile but by the look on Mitsuki's face, it had not come across as such. "Hi," he greeted.

Shikadai wasn't left alone for the rest of the party. He watched the arrival of friend after friend-Tenten, Rock and Metal Lee, Kiba Inuzuka and Shino Aburame, Sarada and, suprisingly, both her parents, Hanabi Hyuga, Kurenai and Mirai, and Inojin and Chouchou with their parents-and yet he didn't actually spend his time as much with them as he did with the whispers in his mind.

It didn't take long for the place to get chaotic. Uncle Naruto was an enthusiastic host, and Aunt Ino was constantly screaming at everyone and everything. Most of the guests brought masses of food that was laid out on the table. While the food was quickly devoured by the party's many attendants, it was left untouched by Shikadai, who remained seated on the couch and unreceptive to the many people who approached him. He was busy eating his insanity.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a blur of electric blonde and midnight blue barge through the door.

It would be better not knowing where the Uzumaki siblings had been prior to arrival, but now that they were here, their presence was made very obvious.

"I am home and ready to PAR-TAY!" Boruto yelled, with Himawari squealing after him.

Shikadai turned away from the source of loud cacophony that was Boruto and his little sister.

 _This is the end_ , the voice chanted endlessly into his mind. _Be prepared, the winds of change never blow backwards._

He could hear the screeching and howling of untamed winds thrashing in his head, but concealed behind the whistles of the gusts of air were screams of agony and anguish to people he didn't know and people he didn't want to know.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

 _THIS IS THE END-_

Quite unable to take it any longer, Shikadai lashed out at whoever had placed their hand on his shoulder. "SHUT THE HELL UP!" he yelled.

Many of the house's occupants turned their heads, having heard Shikadai's loud outburst. Many jaws dropped to see the Nara boy yelling at Sasuke Uchiha.

Shikamaru and Temari noticed, but merely sighed and shrugged before continuing to converse with the alarmed Chouji and Karui.

Shikadai observed with surprise that it was Sasuke Uchiha who had approached him. Of all things that could have piqued Sasuke's rather dead curiosity, Shikadai seemed to have had.

"I assume you weren't talking to me..." Sasuke told Shikadai.

Shikadai looked at the Uchiha man for several moments. _Could he know...?_

"No," Shikadai replied.

To Shikadai's utter surprise, the stoic, reserved man held out his hand. "I wish you luck." _If he's going to be the underling of that Gaara, he's going to need it_ , Sasuke thought.

After eyeing the hand suspiciously for several moments, Shikadai finally stood up and shook it. He exchanged nods with Sarada's father, noticing, in the corner of his eye, the girl and her mother gaping at his exchange with Sasuke.

With that, the Uchiha man swept away.

Noise and chatter returned to the atmosphere of the party, and Shikadai prepared to settle down again when he was jostled by a whir of blonde.

Taken surprise, it took several moments for Shikadai to register that he was being shaken profusely by Boruto Uzumaki, and that standing behind him were the boys of their, Inojin, Metal Lee, and Mitsuki.

He sent a look Inojin's way and the Yamanaka boy immediately looked away. Turning back to Boruto, he asked, annoyed, "What?"

"Geez, you're hopeless," Boruto rolled his eyes, "I've called you like twenty times already, ya know! I said for all us boys to gather 'round and you just kept staring into space-get your head out of the clouds, buddy!"

His head hadn't really been in the clouds-rather, it'd been in a much darker place.

"I know, I know!" Boruto exclaimed. "I said for all boys to gather 'round...and you ignored us...are you secretly a GIRL?"

Shikadai rolled his eyes at the ridiculous notion.

"Is that why you're wearing your hair down?" Boruto continued in a squeaky squeal. "Aw, don't be embarrassed, _Miss_ Nara, I think you look cute." Boruto grabbed his hand as if to kiss the back of it, but Shikadai yanked himself away in time.

"What the fuck do you want, Uzumaki?"

"Dad bought me this new video game and it's pretty bloody and awesome. I wanna go kick all of your asses!"

Shikadai followed a laughing Boruto into the game room, ignoring the three other boys and shaking off the annoying Metal Lee, who screamed in his ear, "Yosh! Shikadai! We shall kick off our rivalry with a battle of game consoles and avatars!"

In the end, Shikadai emerged victorious. He had fun.

The others-not so much. Inojin had played diligently, his tongue protruding unconsciously from the corner of his mouth as his brow furrowed in concentration. Mitsuki had played with a smirk playing on his lips. Rock Lee had single-handedly played the game-quite literally, since he was continuously pumping a fist into the air and yelling, "Yosh!" or "Youth!"

Boruto, the self-proclaimed champion, had ended up losing to all four of his opponents. "WHAT! I don't believe it-I lost to the lazy bastard? Rematch, now!"

They had all been equally disturbed, however, by the way Shikadai had practically murdered his game console with his thumbs throughout the game, and how he'd worn a feral grin throughout the game (although he was unaware of it himself), almost as if he wished the blood, gore, and killing, and screaming in the video game were real.

No one really wanted a repeat of their utter defeat at Shikadai's hands, so the boys ignored Boruto's insistent urges at a rematch and filed out of the game room. Metal Lee approached Shikadai, offering a handshake.

"Good game, my rival! However, you should watch out! You may have won this time, but we will have more contests to come and I shall prove that my youthful ninja way is the best of them all!"

Shikadai looked at Metal Lee's extended hand in disdain. He resisted the urge to spit on it. He turned his back on the beaming Lee boy and walked in the opposite direction. "Tch. Don't lower me to your standards."

Shikadai stopped when he found Inojin several feet in front of him, staring at him with wide and apprehensive big blue eyes. Inojin's feet kept shifting, and when the Yamanaka boy noticed his other teammate, Chouchou, he summoned her over with a wave of his hand. Shikadai quirked an amused brow when Inojin and Chouchou began speaking to one another in hushed tones, glancing at Shikadai every so often.

Finally, they seemed to reach a conclusion; Chouchou took a few deep breaths and Inojin gulped before stepping forward, approaching Shikadai and opening his mouth to say-

"Shikadai, boy! Won't you try some of my mashed chestnuts? It's a new recipe!" Aunt Ino's loud voice easily overpowered that of her son's, and she didn't even notice Inojin as she shoved past him and Chouchou to reach Shikadai. She shoved a plate into Shikadai's unwilling plate.

Bewildered-and distracted from whatever Inojin had been about to say-Shikadai looked down at the food Aunt Ino had thrust into his hands. He found himself staring at a plate of-sure enough, mashed chestnuts-which appeared like a brown mush that reminded Shikadai of the last time he'd seen something similar to this.

He'd raised his hand to find it covered in something disgustingly warm and thick, the brown substance tinted with the shine of Gold Dust and the crimson of blood. The crushed flesh Shikadai had worn on his skin at that moment had smelled of death, but the man to whom this pulverized hand belonged was still screaming notes of agony that echoed and imprinted themselves in Shikadai's brain.

What had he called it? Oh, that's right: purée.

 _CRASH_

The plate and its puréed contents slipped from Shikadai's hands before he realized it. He faintly heard Aunt Ino screaming at him ("What the hell was that for, young man? Couldn't you at least try it-and not make a mess? Do you know how much time I spent making it-"), but she stopped when she noticed Shikadai's hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to stop the torrent coming up from his stomach.

In a state of half-daze and alarm, Shikadai roughly pushed his way past the crowd, not noticing that it had grown shock-silent in the wake of the shattering of his plate. He dashed through the hallways and a loud _SLAM_ of the bathroom door echoed throughout the Uzumaki abode. No one could really keep from grimacing as they heard the muffled sound of retching.

Ino looked down at the ruined plate of her mashed chestnuts. "Is my cooking really that bad?" she wondered aloud, frowning.

Inojin and Chouchou knew it wasn't because of the former's mother's cooking. Inojin was not usually one to take initiative, being pacified and soft-spoken as he was but at this moment, he grabbed Chouchou's hand without a moment's hesitation and rushed after his best friend.

"We have to do something," he muttered. Chouchou, once overcoming her surprise at Inojin's sudden forwardness, nodded vigorously.

The room was again shell-shocked silent as the Yamanaka and Akimichi scampered off and disappeared into the hallway after their Nara friend.

* * *

Shikadai nearly choked on the acrid bile that rose from his throat and flooded from his mouth into the porcelain bowl beneath him-he hadn't time to lament the loss of the lunch his father had cooked that afternoon, for amidst an inexplicable pain in his head was drowned in the voice's screaming of, "Enjoy it, you little monster! This is the taste of Ryomen's bloooood! Doesn't it taste like...ecstasy?"

Soon, Shikadai could no longer discern whether it was the thought of "human purée" that was inducing his vomit, or whether it was what the voice suggested about said topic.

He barely noticed when a pale blonde boy and a dark-skinned girl barged into the bathroom, their faces the definition of concern and worry.

Inojin rushed over to his best friend and pulled his hair back from his face, rubbing calming circles on his back as Shikadai continued to empty the bitter, vile contents of his stomach into the toilet.

After the torrent of puke had ended and Shikadai was reduced to coughing and spluttering, Chouchou made her way over and hauled her teammate up from the position in which he was kneeling, dragged him to the sink, and helped him rinse himself off.

Shikadai had allowed all this to happen, his mind being clouded by the taste of bile in his mouth. However, the water washed that and the fogginess in his brain away, and he suddenly became acutely aware of the two presences in too close of a proximity to him. Alarm overcame him and he shoved them off.

Inojin stumbled backwards and Chouchou, having been closer to Shikadai, received the full force of his surprisingly strong push and ended up hitting the opposite wall with an "Oof!"

Now on the receiving end of Shikadai's deadly glare, the two suddenly became unaware of what to do next.

None of them enjoyed their tense triangle of silence that was threatening to implode any minute. Wary of anything like that happening, Inojin finally opened his mouth, rushing through his words.

"Look, Shikadai, I know this seems kind of random and sudden but please hear me out. A lot of things have...happened, and I-we-both Chouchou and I-want to let you know that we're sorry. For everything."

Inojin and Chouchou did not like the look Shikadai was giving them. "Why are you apologizing?" the Nara boy asked simply.

"B-because, b-because..." Inojin cleared his throat and restarted. "On that mission, we didn't work together like at team like we were supposed to, and I was...m-mad at you for no real reason...maybe if we had worked together none of that...would have happened...?"

Shikadai snorted. The results of that mission would have been the same regardless. The men Ryomen had hired were simply too strong for Ino-Shika-Chou to defeat that time, no matter what tensions may or may not have been coursing high through the team at the time.

Inojin looked uncomfortable, but he continued. "I-Chouchou and I-shouldn't have ignored you after we came back-I know you've been going through a really rough time and as your best friends we should have supported you. We're-we're sorry."

Shikadai's response was, needless to say, not encouraging. He continued glaring at Inojin as if he had not heard a word of what the blonde boy had just told him.

"And I'm sorry, because I was totally unreasonable that day-when you and your uncle came to the flower shop. I shouldn't have been so-been so-naïve-stupid-what I said was out of place. I shouldn't have gone assuming things and your uncle-I can see it now-he really is a great man...I mean he saved our lives. Please forgive me."

Shikadai rolled his eyes.

Inojin was beginning to lose his resolve, and Chouchou looked at him worriedly. He finally steeled himself one last time and continued, "It's been seven days, hasn't it? Since you got the Kazekage's letter? We're happy for you Shikadai, really, we are, but today's the day you gotta choose and as your team, we had to make sure that before you made your decision to go-"

Inojin was interrupted by a low, dry sound. He and Chouchou turned to see Shikadai doubled over and clutching his stomach as he chuckled, almost as if he had just heard something extremely amusing. "Uh, Shikadai-" Chouchou began.

Shikadai threw back his unkempt black hair and laughed out loud. "Ha, ha-so we finally get to the point, don't we, Yamanaka? Don't try to lie to yourselves that you actually care about someone like me!"

"Of course we care about you-" Chouchou interrupted, unable to help herself-

"Come on, _Chouchou_ , don't let that Yamanaka coward rub off on you. What do you have to apologize to me for? Just admit that the only reason you're standing here in front of me-which you hate, by the way, I can tell by the way you're shaking-is because you're afraid of what's going to happen to your precious 'team'! You need three people for a squad, don't you? And you were just unlucky enough to have me as your third person."

"We've always been a team, Shikadai!" Chouchou burst out. "We always worked together so well on the past, we were Team Ino-Shika-Chou! Did all that really mean nothing to you? What changed?"

"Nothing."

Inojin sent Chouchou a look that warned her not to antagonize Shikadai, but she didn't notice. She had always been impulsive. "I beg to differ! Nothing's changed? Have you taken a look at yourself lately? Look, Shikadai, I understand if you're taking things hard and yeah, we all need time to recuperate, but sorry to break it to ya, buddy, you're just getting ridiculous. Look, you're not the only one who suffered-"

In less than a blink of an eye, Shikadai had sprang across the bathroom and pinned his female teammate to the wall by the neck.

"Don't pretend to understand," he growled.

Inojin grew alarmed at Shikadai's handling of his female teammate. He grabbed Shikadai's sleeve and pleaded for him to let go and calm down.

Shikadai's response was to punch Inojin in the face.

Inojin stumbled backwards, unsure whether his nose hurt more from the punch or his heart from the pain of being hurt by his childhood best friend.

"I'd say I was sorry for ruining a perfect team of three, but I can't really feel sorry for a team that never existed."

"But Team Ino-Shika-Chou-all those years-missions-" Inojin protested.

"As I said, you don't understand," Shikadai cut back harshly. "Not that I would expect you to. We're different, you and I. The two of you-your roots lie in the forest were thousands of tree share common soil. You feed on water from a clear spring.

I-my roots lie in the sand and I live off the a desert plant that grows in the middle of isolation. We have to dig down deep to find water, and we sustain ourselves off a poisoned spring."

"Wh-what-are you talking about?" Chouchou choked out.

"I'm talking about how, for all my life, I've been tricked into drinking from the forest's clear spring. It's different for you because this is where your seeds were planted and grown. But you see, for those whose roots lie in the sand, feeding off the clean, natural water is the same as poison, while poison itself gives them...vitality."

"That's-that's not true!" Inojin argued. "If people just-work together-"

A crazed fury suddenly entered Shikadai's eyes, and he gripped Chouchou's throat harder. Inojin desperately held his hands up in a placating manner to try to appease the angered boy.

"All of you think you're so great. Why do you all keep trying to feed me your poison? I've told you all I don't _need_ it-I _can't_." Shikadai suddenly seemed short of breath. "This place, this awful place-it's strangling me, it's conspiring against me-" His eyes suddenly lit up with enlightenment. "I need to get out of here before it _kills_ me."

He abruptly let go of Chouchou, who gasped for much needed air and slid to the ground. In the past, she would have seized the opportunity to punch Shikadai in the face like he had Inojin, but with the current situation she found none of her usual zest and resolve.

Without so much as another comment, Shikadai turned with another word and began walking out of the bathroom and away from his two teammates.

Inojin hurried after him. "Wait-Shikadai-please!" he pleaded, clinging to Shikadai's shirt. "Don't do this so quickily-please, let's talk about it!"

Shikadai shrugged Inojin off without even looking at him. "My eyes were closed before they were even allowed to open. It's been that way for too many years and I now that I've finally opened them, I'll be damned if I'll close them again. The world is darker when your eyes are open and I don't see you in it."

True to his word, Shikadai did not see the look of hurt on Inojin's face as he walked away.

Gaara had the uncanny ability to make others fall silent without uttering a word, and that trait now proved to be genetic. As Shikadai reentered the Uzumaki living room, the bustling bodies and conversation slowed to a stop in order to carefully observe the reappearance of the Kazekage's nephew after his bizarre episode.

The respective parents of Inojin, Chouchou, and Shikadai were standing together and the former two couples noticed, with no small amount of dread, that their own children had not returned with Shikadai.

Shikadai ignored the stares of everyone in the room and walked to Shikamaru and Temari with a purpose. While everyone else looked at each in confusion and asked unspoken "What is he going to do now?"s, his parents met his gaze straight-on with similarly unspoken understanding.

He stopped right in front of them, disregarding Ino, Sai, Chouji, and Karui as if they were not standing inches from him as well. For some reason, even the loudmouthed Ino, the blunt Sai, the sometimes-clueless Chouji, and the headstrong Karui knew not to open their mouths.

Shikadai knew exactly what to say to Shikamaru and Temari, and they him. So they said nothing at all, because there was nothing to say.

For a normal twelve-year-old child with normal parents, this would be the heartwarming, bittersweet moment in which they exchanged hugs and sweet nothings to one another. But this was twelve-year-old child and parents who existed to defy normal.

Shikamaru looked down at his son and did not smile. It was not appropriate to do so. Instead, he offered his hand, and Shikadai shook it, briefly reminded of Sasuke Uchiha's similar gesture until he felt the inexplicable bond of parenthood and family pass through him as his own hand made contact with his father's larger one.

 _Please help him, little brother_ , Shikamaru thought grimly, thinking of the Kazekage.

Shikadai turned to Temari. He found himself temporarily mesmerized by her teal eyes-the eyes he'd inherited. He could feel the sparks just by looking into them.

A handshake did not seem like a proper exchange between them. Instead, Shikadai fumbled in his pockets and pulled out the black, velvet string-the one he'd removed from Uncle Gaara's letter a week ago. With shaking fingers, he reached up-Temari, seeming to gain sense of what her son was doing, leaned down-and he tied the ribbon of fate around his mother's neck.

He took one last, deep look into his parents' eyes, catching a quiet shimmering and gentle glistening-and then turned away, knowing that they were still tied together.

On his way, Shikadai did not stop at the Nara abode to pick anything up. Anything that he could have carried on his person was superficial. They belonged to a time and place that no longer existed.

He patted his canteen several times and then fingered Uncle Gaara's hourglass. _I'm coming home._

He reached the inn for foreign diplomats and asked the clerk to direct him to Shinchi and Icho's room. He approached Rooms ww and prepared to knock when the door opened, as if its occupants had been known he was coming all along.

Shikadai almost expected the steel-haired, orange-eyed girl to exchange meaningless nothings with him-a "how are you," or even "what are you doing here". They didn't even ask Shikadai whether or not he had decided-technically, he had not said yes or no to the "proposal"-was he going to Suna or not?

Instead, she flashed her teeth at him and asked no questions. "At your service, _Lazy Prince_."

Shikadai remembered Yaoki and Korobi calling him a "little prince". This must have been Icho's cruel twist on it.

Shinchi appeared beside her in a matter of seconds. Like Icho, he asked no questions, although he was much more serious. He gave Shikadai a curt nod that Shikadai found himself returning.

Like Shikadai, the two Suna chunin did not seem to have many possessions to collect, either; Icho practically flounced out the door, and Shinchi nonchalantly slung a pack-one that looked rather heavy, in Shikadai's opinion-over his back.

Although he was the only one who was from Konoha, Shikadai did not lead the way. Shinchi and Icho walked in front of him, seemingly to recognize the path to Konoha's gates very well. That, however, wasn't their destination. They're destination was far beyond Konoha's gates.

Kotetsu and Izumo smiled at Shikadai when they stamped Shinchi's and Icho's passports. _They don't see you,_ the inner voice told him. _That's why they're smiling. They still think you're human-ha, ha, ha..._

Shikadai ran his fingers through his loose hair, feeling the wind blow through it in the direction away from Konoha. He didn't know when it'd happened, but he'd learned to listen to the wind. _Welcome_ , it told him.

For the second time in his life, Shikadai stepped outside Konoha's gates, still in a squad of three but without Mirai and an evil stranger accompanying him. This time, he left together with his new team. He looked contemplatively at midnight blue and steel silver of the backs of the respectives heads of Shnchi and Icho.

Shikadai allowed his feet to lead him. _Konoha was a place for happy families and happy endings,_ he thought. _That's why I left._

The soles of his shinobi sandals imprinted themselves into the soil, but Shikadai did not turn his head to look back at the village that was supposed to imprinted its influence into his person.

If he had turned back, he would have seen the green, forested city growing smaller and smaller, until it was so distant it could be blotted out from his vision if he raised his thumb.

But he didn't turn back. The presence of Konoha had grown so miniscule in his heart as to not exist at all. He had stopped seeing Konoha long ago.

He allowed his feet to carry him to the place wear the wind would not allow his footprints to stay in the sand for long.


	11. Chapter 10: Master of the Wind

**Author's Note: This chapter is shorter than the last—but not short: it's still 17,029 words. I came under the impression that the excessive length of my chapters was deterring my readers. I only got five reviews for 24,000 words last chapter.** **L** **Am I disappointed? Yes. Does this mean I will become unmotivated and stop writing this story? No. I will continue on with "Identity of Love and Sand" even if I get 100 flames for every word I write, because I'm even more stubborn than Temari. But am I disappointed? Yeah, I am.**

 **For those of you who DID review: THANK YOU! IT WAS A WONDERFUL 16** **TH** **BIRTHDAY GIFT! TheLadyMuse, SanctuaryoftheDead, Alice2013, NarutoFan2018, maxridelover. Don't worry, Lady the Warrior! I know you're onto it!**

 **Some of you have been asking about Shukaku. My question for you is since when you have been able to read my mind. Anyway, no spoiling from YZY, but I'll just say that you can go ahead and keep your eyes open for a certain insane tanuki…sometime in the future.**

 **The rest of you don't want to disappoint your author, do you? Either way, I'm leaving my good/bad mood in your hands.**

 **All right, enough of this useless chatter. On with Chapter 10: I think I did a very good job. What more do I have to say than** ** _enjoy_** **?**

Chapter 10—Master of the Wind

"Shikadai Nara, I am going to _kill_ you." Temari scowled deeply and turned to her husband. "Shikamaru, this is all _your_ fault."

Shikamaru's eyebrow twitched irritably. "How come I'm always the one responsible for every little mistake in the world?"

Temari crossed her arms while standing in the middle of a pile of dirty laundry in Shikadai's room. "You're the one who passed down the lazy gene to Shikadai."

"If you want to get technical, then you should blame my father for the so-called 'lazy gene'." Shikamaru yawned, sitting down on Shikadai's unused bed. "But technically, you can't really blame him either, because he got the gene from his father, who got it from his, so technically right now you should be yelling at my long-dead Nara ancestors who decided they liked being lazy, not _me_."

"Excuses, crybaby," Temari smirked, earning a roll of her husband's eyes. Inwardly, though, she wondered whether it was the gene of her own cruel wiliness that had possessed Shikadai to leave his room in an absolute mess before leaving for Suna, knowing full well that his parents couldn't very well drag him back to Konoha to clean his room at this point.

"Get up off your ass and help me clean the mess your son made," Temari barked at Shikamaru, who was now reclining.

"Hey, he's your son too, so who's fault is it?"

Temari sighed and cursed fate for making her attracted to lackadaisical slouches. Deciding that she had better things to do than sort through Shikadai's dirty underwear, she pulled her small, handheld fan, snapped it open, and in one swift motion, swept the piles of junk across the room into a single pile in a corner with a small gust of wind. "There," she said, "all done."

Shikamaru had now lifted his head and was resting on his elbows, looking up at Temari. "Troublesome woman, you just made it worse," he smirked.

"Did I really?" She walked meaningfully over to Shikamaru and with a cruel glint in her eyes, pushed him roughly down back onto the bed and crawled on top of him. "I can think of better things to do." She licked her lips tantalizingly and Shikamaru cursed the she-devil who managed to turn him on in just a manner of seconds even after they'd done repeat performances for over ten years. Temari lowered her face and Shikamaru felt her delectable golden bangs tickling his forehead, and she showered him in her breath as those eternally-smirking, cruel pink wet lips came closer and closer-

-until they halted, one millimeter away, and breathed into his mouth, "But if you think I did a bad job, I can go ahead and continue cleaning..."

Shikamaru's response was to grab that evil woman and smash their lips together, and even as they made out and scissored tongues, he could feel her smirking against him. Patience was no virtue of Temari's, and Shikamaru couldn't say her eagerness didn't excite him. These two created temperature pretty easily, and soon things got steamy. Clothes remained on, but the roaming hands of the other person explored the territory underneath them.

With the shred of rationality Shikamaru had left in his mind, he muttered huskily, "Oi oi oi, woman, I'm not getting laid on my son's fucking bed, okay? A certain troublesome woman has given me enough trauma in my life."

Temari, ignoring the last comment, rolled her eyes and tactlessly said, "It's _because_ we got laid that we have a son in the first place, dumbass. Besides, he'll never know."

After some more kissing Shikamaru chuckled and hazily asked Temari, "When since Shikadai left did we turn into a bunch of horny teenagers again?"

"Ah, the good times, free and childless and... _uncensored_..."

Shikadai's training mission in Suna with Gaara was a blessing, but his departure had been a source of grief for both of his parents. For other couples-perhaps Naruto and Hinata-the deserted parents would look to one another for mutual comfort, holding one another in their arms and whispering sweet reassurances and incantations of names. For Shikamaru and Temari, the search for "mutual comfort" resulted in the high exhilaration of freedom and the shedding of clothes.

Temari was just as much a rhino in bed as in battle, but Shikamaru wasn't going to allow himself to lose to a _woman_ so easily. They rolled and squirmed about the bed in a manner that would have looked like horrid roughhousing to any other but was really just teasing wrestling for the two of them.

Temari grasped Shikamaru tightly by the shoulders as he attempted to rear up, digging her nails into his flesh in painful, yet equally pleasurable, manner. "No-you-don't-crybaby...!" Temari was strong, but so was Shikamaru if he wanted to be. Nevertheless, Temari stubbornly held her ground and managed to push Shikamaru down.

Shikamaru was struggling but at the same time chuckling, "Yo, woman, you-Ow!"

The couple's rapid progression of their... _activity_...was put to halt by the hard contact of what sounded like metal and the back of Shikamaru's head. Even Temari grimaced in slight sympathy as her husband rubbed the back of his now bruised head and cursed his own son for the first time that day-"Damn Shikadai, leaving things laying around on the bed-"

He groped the rumpled covers of the bed in search of the unfortunate object he'd fallen onto, curling his fingers around what felt like cold metal. Brusquely, he brought it forward, only to stop short once it'd entered his and Temari's field of vision.

There was no need to question it as the object was unmistakable.

"I know he didn't bring much to Suna..." The messy piles in his room in Konoha which contained Shikadai's entire wardrobe was an indication of that. Temari fiddled with her ponytails. "But he didn't even bring _this_?"

Shikamaru stared at the object with a frown. "It's technically not even legal for him to go to Suna without this-all shinobi require representation of their village and ninja status when they are in a foreign country. It's basic protocol. But, I guess...since when has he cared about the rules?"

"This isn't about the rules," Temari insisted. Not even the Kazekage of Suna nor the Hokage of Konoha would particularly care about this particular rule in pertinence to Shikadai. There was another meaning behind this. "This is...the only symbol of his citizenship and loyalty to Konoha."

"And he didn't bring it with him," Shikamaru finished, and husband and wife studied with troubled contemplation the Konohagakure forehead protector their son had left behind.

* * *

 _I'm a child of the desert_ , Shikadai told himself.

 _Who's never even been to one till now, you failure desert child_ , the voice taunted. _What, can't stand a little heat?_

 _Shut up!_ Shikadai replied. _I am the first and only descendant of the Siblings of the Sand! My mother is Temari of the Sand and my uncles are Kankuro the Puppetmaster and Sabaku no Gaara, the Kazekage of Sunagakure himself! I'm doing_ just fine _. I'm-_

About to die in this god-foresaken weather.

Shikadai had never loved clouds more. Acutely, because he couldn't see a single one at the present. He wasn't able to appreciate the limitless, beautiful blue and the endless sand that stretched in all directions now, but awed he was indeed. The landscape was uniform but far from shapeless. There was more variety to the differently-shaped sand dunes than to the various colorful buildings of Konohagakure. One step forward meant leaving the previous step behind forever, for the panorama of the desert shifted with every step you took. Yet, at the same time, running through the sand (which was a drag-you could never get a steady foothold) felt like running in place while you tried to reach your destination which was a dreamland away while the overbearing sun reminded you of every second of your miserable existence. He'd heard legends of the infinite nature of the desert, but it was so much more than what he'd fathomed.

He cursed Icho for bringing their party off the main road to Sunagakure, insisting that "Lord Gaara told us to bring Lazy Prince to Suna, not how to. Besides, we'll be doing him a service by getting him acquainted with the desert." Shikadai thought he was good at conserving water, but his father's canteen was empty and he was dehydrated and they were in the middle of the directionless desert, with another leg of the journey yet to complete before Sunagakure was reached.

"You look like you're about to pass out." Shinchi's level voice brought Shikadai out of his reverie, and with hazy eyes he regarded the puppeteer who was now standing over him. Shikadai blinked as a metal canteen was thrust into his face. "Here," Shinchi said. "If you don't drink water in the desert you will die."

"I _have_ water," Shikadai insisted stubbornly, the status of his birth still making him a bit too prideful of accepting a charity gift of water as he traversed through his motherland, despite the fact that his every cell in his body was screaming to be quenched.

"You _had_ water," Shinchi corrected. Shikadai mentally berated himself for his ridiculous incompetence at conserving water. At the same time, he eyed Shinchi's offered canteen and wondered why he had barely seen the boy take two drops throughout their whole trip, while Shikadai himself had been unable to resist downing gulp after gulp.

As much as Shikadai wanted to declare, "I'm a child of the desert! I don't need your help!", his innate Nara-ness overrode his pride and he found himself obediently accepting the canteen of water he so craved. Still, he cuttingly remarked, "What, so if I drink all your water, aren't _you_ going to die?"

"No."

Shikadai didn't argue. He rolled his eyes and did not wait for a further answer from Shinchi as he hastily brought the water container to his lips and relished in the feeling of the cool, sweet liquid sliding past his tongue and down his parched throat.

Awareness crept back into his senses as hydration cleared the fog in his brain, and Shikadai felt, more acutely this time, the stab of trampled pride of having made a water-wasting, inexperienced fool of himself before his two Suna companions. At least Shinchi seemed more understanding than Icho though.

"You'll adapt," Shinchi reassured.

Shikadai looked up at the sky, but realized that while he often found sanctuary in it in Konoha, the sky itself was the very source of his misery in the desert, since the sweltering sun sat so proudly in it.

He was sitting in the sand (where else?) and now promptly remembered that they had taken a break in their travels (not that either Suna chunin seemed to need it) even though "Lazy Prince" had insisted he didn't need to rest either. While resting he'd drifted off into a Lala-land called dehydration.

Now that he was out of it, he wanted to get moving. The sooner he got to Suna, the sooner he got to get away from Shinchi and Icho in whose presence he was in the danger of exhibiting his poor survival skills in the arid Land of Wind. The sooner he got to see Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankuro, and the sooner his uncles would give a him a real bed to sleep on. Shikadai simply hoped that beds in Sunagakure were not made of sand. Here in the open sand, everything was made of sand, because there was nothing but dune after dune of sand. Shikadai briefly wondered if Uncle Gaara ever got sick of sand.

He stood up quickly and didn't bother with the troublesome task of ridding his clothes of sand-it would be futile, anyway. He looked at Shinchi, who quirked an eyebrow at him and did not move, instead fiddling with his packs and pulling out a shiny canvas that suddenly unfolded into something much larger.

Shikadai watched him and felt his heart sink. "Shit. What are you doing?" he asked.

"Setting up camp."

"...Why?" he asked stupidly.

Shinchi looked at him and shrugged. "Lord Gaara didn't tell us to bring you back to Sunagakure alive, but I believe it was implied. You shouldn't continue traveling in your current condition."

 _"Don't tell me what I can or can't do!_ " Shikadai cried, finally snapping. These were Suna shinobi and he was the Kazekage's nephew, dammit! Shouldn't he have more authority, rather than _no_ authority, out here?

"I didn't," Shinchi replied patiently. "I said you _shouldn't_."

"And I say I don't give a damn." Shinchi merely shrugged and continued preparing for a delightful night camping out in the desert. Shikadai marveled at the various ways people tended to treat him. His parents treated him with indifference, yet love. The Hokage and his family treated him with fondness and affection. The rest of his Konoha acquaintances treated him like a bomb wrapped in a delicate eggshell. Yaoki and Korobi had treated him like he was the nephew of the Sun itself. And Shinchi and Icho, each in their own way, tread not on eggshells around him, but on hard rocks that they seemed to desire to crush beneath their feet, while claiming that they were doing it for his own good. And Uncle Gaara treated him like...well, he wasn't really sure what the answer to that question was, actually.

Shikadai was accustomed to wiping sweat from his brow when the weather was hot, but his hand returned free of perspiration. Not sweating was something he'd have to get used to.

He turned away, frustrated, from Shinchi, who was unrolling several sleeping bags. Shikadai sighed when he realized he might have to sleep on bare sand (since he'd brought nothing with him-though he didn't regret it) but Shinchi took out a third sleeping bag obviously meant for him.

Shikadai had never credited himself for having a sixth sense-just _genius_ sense, although he wondered if was losing that now. A sudden, omen-like chill passed over him, and he discreetly kneaded his dry hands. He could have credited the sudden feeling with the approaching darkness and nightfall-the desert tended to drop dramatically in temperature during the night, that much he knew-but the chill was more likely to have been caused by a sudden realization he had. "Where's Icho?" he asked, looking around. He hadn't noticed her leave. Then again, he'd been in delirium from water deprivation.

Shinchi slowly scanned their desert surroundings, much to Shikadai's annoyance-their surrounding terrain was so unobstructed that if Icho were anywhere around, he'd have been able to spot her himself.

"Around," Shinchi answered, continuing to scan the surrounding terrain. His electric blue eyes suddenly stopped on a one particular corner of the desert that didn't look too special to Shikadai, since it looked the same as the rest-that made Shikadai wonder, was no part of the desert special because of its uniformity or was the entire desert special _because_ of its uniformity?

Shinchi kept his eyes pinpointed on that distant spot in the sand while setting down the sleeping bag he'd been preparing. Carefully, he stood up, but his face gave no hint as to what he might have been thinking.

Shikadai's entire body tensed. He knew the older boy was looking for something-waiting for something? Shinchi remained impassive, but Shikadai could feel the blood curdling in his own stomach. He squinted at the horizon and suddenly he could see a speck. The otherwise completely flat line of the horizon magnified what would otherwise be an insignificant speck.

The speck turned into a dot and the dot into a blob that could be seen bouncing up and down from the distance. It didn't take a genius like Shikadai to figure out that something was coming closer, and that something was coming closer _fast_. No change appeared on the older teenage chunin's face, so Shikadai remained in place, standing and staring dumbly as what looked to be a dust cloud came in their direction.

The thing got closer. With a jolt, Shikadai suddenly discerned something dark and bulky within the dust cloud, and he realized that the cloud of sand was merely a shroud for something much more formidable.

The thing was a disgusting mix of black and brown, and it had a long, bulky, plated body with four sharply jointed, scuttling legs on either side of it. Shikadai squinted in confusion, for the oddity appeared to have two disproportionately large heads. The creature came even closer, perhaps one hundred feet away now. Its true colors darkened the sand cloud and the sound of rushing sand as it scuttled thundered in Shikadai's ears like the sound of gushing water, yet different. Eighty feet away, and it became clear to him that the thing did not, in fact, have two heads; no; they were fatally sharp jaw-like pincers. Seventy feet away, and he made out a pair of coal-black eyes, cold, cruel, gruesome, and beady-but the creature was large enough that its beady eyes themselves were probably half Shikadai's height. Sixty feet away, and Shikadai realized that none of those were the creatures main features at all, for curled menacingly over its entire body, raised, and poised to strike, was a twenty-foot long, jointed tail that ended in a sharp, glistening point.

It wasn't a scorpion. It was a _giant_ scorpion.

 _A monster!_ the voice shouted. Shikadai would have been less afraid if the voice were not squealing in such glee. _A beast-freak of nature-this thing is one of your kind. Maybe you should bond with it, he, he, he._

Ever since his talk with his mother, Shikadai had accepted the voice in his head as his own and listened patiently to its twisted rhetoric, attempting to reach peace and harmony with it. But try as he might now, he couldn't find any appeal in the prospect of "bonding" with this disgusting beast, as his voice so happily suggested.

It was fifty feet away when he heard the scream.

It was a riveting sound that blasted every rational thought from his head and sent his brain spinning wildly like a top.

 _Only a scream can get you moving, because you're addicted to the sick sound of it._

"Shikadai!" Shinchi yelled, using a voice above his usual level tone for once. Shikadai did not stop to revel in the change exhibited by the fifteen-year-old chunin; Shinchi's voice was coming from somewhere behind him, for he had by then charged forward. He was not being influenced by the zealousness of the voice in his head, which, amid the spinning, screamed at him to get closer to the monster. For once, it was his unbridled heart which led his feet to plow forward in the sand and towards the scorpion, the source of the chaos. He and the voice both wanted to get closer to the monster, indeed-but for very different reasons.

His teal eyes caught the sight of gleaming shiny silver hair. The sand that sprung up from the earth shielded her face from his view, but he could make out the swift, elegant, poised movements of her limbs. She did her dance in the shine of the sun and the sand rose up to join her. Then Shikadai saw her skid and turn, all the while still running, while a lethal tail swiped inches away from her arched spine.

His heart was screaming, so he disregarded the screaming of his sore muscles and his weariness from travel and dehydration. For once, his brilliant mind couldn't keep up with his body-he could barely comprehend what was going on as his hands wove themselves through intricate signs; something dark slithered across the ground before him and he heard the words "Shadow Possession Jutsu!" escaping his mouth.

The weight of the entire desert seemed to fall on top of him and the pain of physical exertion suddenly made itself very prominent. His eyes flew open as he felt himself being jarred violently, and he followed the path of his dark shadow across the ground and found it joined to a much, much larger shadow. The shadow of something that wasn't even remotely humanoid and was much, much bigger than anything the Shadow Possession Jutsu was supposed to be able to handle.

The giant sand scorpion's beady eyes now directed their full glare at Shikadai, and the look in the giant beast's eyes, combined with its many lethal and savage appendages, made him want nothing more than to look away. An enormous pull tugged on Shikadai's body once again, and Shikadai realized it was his own shadow: the Shadow Possession Jutsu was meant to incapacitate human enemies of his own size. Shikadai could control the desert scorpion to an extent, now, but he was far from having complete power over its movements; the shadow was now acting as a rope too thin and ill-equipped to bind him and the scorpion together (he puzzled at the irony of performing the action the voice in his head had suggested). Every jerky movement made by the scorpion tugged, pulled, and pushed his poor shadow, and though he was the one controlling it, Shikadai wondered who was on what end of the rope in this situation.

The scorpion, furious at being inhibited from movement, roared (as much as a scorpion could roar, anyway) and attempted to rear up terrifically, almost succeeding if it were not for Shikadai's shadow holding it down to the sand like a chain. Shikadai, who was at the other side of the abused shadow, was pulled along, and with in correlation with the scorpion's powerful attempt Shikadai fell over in onto the sand. The scorpion struggled but was pulled down to the ground along with Shikadai; the Shadow Possession Jutsu did, after all, force the victim to follow every movement of the possessor. Still, the scorpion swung its tail around in fury, and from his sprawled position on the ground Shikadai saw Icho's orange eyes widen in alarm as the poisoned appendage rushed towards her. "Icho, move!" Shikadai called out, thinking he was too late, but the girl leapt gracefully and powerfully high into the air, flipped mid-way, and landed safely on the ground in an eruption of disturbed sand. He was relieved, but at the same time, impressed by Icho's quick reflexes and strong movements.

Shikadai panted, the condition of his exhausted body coming back to him, and he realized that with his chakra levels and the ridiculous size and strength of this particular Shadow Possession Jutsu victim, he had about 45 seconds left before it was game over for him. He was just lucky a sand scorpion couldn't use chakra.

He struggled to get up, the scorpion jerking awkwardly as it attempted to resist his control. He looked up to see Shinchi standing idly and looking at him serenely, while Icho was clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. Both looked more concerned with him than with their much larger opponent, and Shikadai was suddenly struck with puzzlement as to why these two chunin weren't freaking out and trying to figure out what to do about their situation. Was he missing something...?

He was running out of time but he still needed to clarify the situation. He opened his mouth to say something, but then Icho beat him to it. "Are you stupid or what? That thing with your shadow-the scorpion almost _squashed_ me flat! Are you _trying_ to get us killed?"

Her screaming reeled his mind. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, disbelieving of what she'd just said. Finally, his brain was knocked back into gear and he cried, " _Me_ trying to get _us_ killed? I didn't do anything but try to save you!"

"Did I say I needed help?"

"No, clearly you did not, but you also didn't say you were going to run off to nowhere and come back with this THING on your tails! How the hell did you get a goddamn giant SCORPION to chase you all the way back to us?"

"Well, then I'll be clear and tell you that I _don't_ need your help." Her whole body suddenly laxed and she was smirking. She wove her hands behind her head in Shikadai's own signature position, looking bored save for the expression on her face.

"What are you doing? Shinchi!" he called, looking over at her partner, who was still standing impassively, though he had summoned a puppet while Shikadai was distracted. _At least he's preparing for battle._ He gestured wildly at the scorpion, make it flail one of its limbs. "This is no time to-we have do something about this-"

"No we don't," Shinchi interrupted, still looking so serene that Shikadai was now sure he was certainly missing something.

"What are you talking about-"

"What he's talking about," Icho interrupted smugly, "is that the reason the sand scorpion came chasing me all the way back here was because I told it to."

"You told it to?"

"I provoked it, genius."

Shikadai spluttered. "You did-the scorpion-all of this was on _purpose_?"

She shrugged. "I needed it."

"What for?"

"To kill."

Shikadai did a double take. _She thinks she can take on this huge monster all by herself? Is she crazy?_ He thought about the answer to that question. _Well, clearly. She didn't have to bring a freaking giant scorpion to us and she would still be crazy._

Shikadai was beginning to panic as time was dwindling down. He panted harder and he saw his shadow tremor dangerously and the scorpion gradually breaking off from its hold. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the two insane Suna chunin and think of a strategy.

"I know what you're thinking, dumbass," Icho said haughtily, as if reading his mind. "But I did say I was at Lazy Prince's service and I'm not about to let you die when Lord Gaara is counting on us. Get out of the way." Shikadai didn't move, so the girl rolled her eyes and stepped right into the path of his shadow. This did not result in her getting captured in it-she was merely standing in the way between the Shadow Possessor and the possessed scorpion. Instead, her shadow overlapped Shikadai's and helped fortify it, making it stronger and thicker.

Shikadai blinked. He'd never thought of using his own shadow along with that of someone else's to create a larger shadow and a more powerful Shadow Possession. He'd never thought he could manipulate a shadow without manipulating the person.

No time to ponder on that now.

"Ninja Art: Blood Blade Jutsu!"

A terrible screech wailed through the air like a siren following the performance of Icho's jutsu. He wasn't able to get a clear view of what exactly Icho's jutsu had done before he felt something warm spray his face and he quickly screwed his eyes shut.

Shikadai stumbled yet again as he felt the repercussions of his retracting shadow-he'd used up his chakra and his shadow was returning back to its normal state like a springing rubber band that had been stretched for too long. Once he regained his footing, he opened his eyes, afraid of what chaos he might find once he did so.

Instead, he was met with silence.

It took him a while to realize that the sand scorpion had not disappeared, after all. It had simply... _died_.

Icho was standing with a triumphant grin over its shriveled corpse, eyeing with great pleasure scorpion's exposed torso, _which had been sliced entirely in half._

The tail remained intact, Shikadai realized, but the rest of its body was slit, a vertical split running clean through it.

The golden sand that was now the creature's grave was stained with the dark blue of its blood.

Shikadai wiped his face with his hand, and it returned dark blue.

He found himself forgetting how to use the human language to communicate, instead using a stupid gawk to represent his feelings. Both Shinchi and Icho turned to look at the younger boy. Shrugging disinterestedly, Shinchi walked towards the scorpion's body, eyeing it as if it were no more than the corpse of a household cockroach. Icho, on the other hand, continued to look at Shikadai with an excited glint in her eyes.

"H-how-how did you-" Shikadai began.

"I'm a Water type. My jutsu is called the Blood Blade because I literally turn my victim's blood into a blade that can lethally slice them apart from the inside," Icho explained. "People usually associate the Water Release with the ability to control large amounts of water. That's the specialty of people in Kirigakure. But Water types in the desert learn to control extremely miniscule-perhaps microscopic amounts of water, and that can be just as-if not more-dangerous.

For my Blood Blade jutsu, I have to use Water Release to manipulate my victim's blood while simultaneously using Wind Release to turn it into a sharp blade at my disposal. It's ideal for giant sand scorpions because they have very little body fluids, most of which are not essential for their survival, anyway-using Water Release alone on them might not be enough to hurt them. But most living things are just walking blood bags-human beings, for example-and I don't have to use both Water and Wind Release at the same time to turn their body fluids into a weapon. Dehydration is the desert's signature skill and I can do something similar-by draining all of the fluids from a person's body-or making it evaporate inside of them."

"So you kill them," Shikadai said. With a jutsu like that, that seemed to be a given.

Icho looked at him as if he were stupid. That had happened so many times by now that Shikadai wondered if he really were, in fact, stupid. "Of course. They make a lot bigger mess than this dry fellow over here, though." She pointed at the scorpion behind her.

 _What a powerful jutsu. Scary_ , he thought. He looked at the dead victim of the Blood Blade Jutsu and wondered how many other victims of this technique were not scorpions. He felt no sympathy for the dead creature, per say, and it was purely out of curiosity when he asked Icho, "What did that scorpion ever do to you?"

 _It's not wrong to side with the scorpion_ , the voice contributed. _I'm not_ , Shikadai insisted back. The voice ignored him: _you are the same kind, after all; you and it: monsters..._

"Nothing," Icho replied with unfaltering calmness. "It's existence meant absolutely nothing to me, so when our paths crossed, I decided to change that. Now it didn't live its life in vain, since it got to be killed by me."

"Sounds like the scorpion got the short end of the deal."

"Hey, you do what you gotta do. We're shinobi; it's just a beast. I said it hadn't done anything to me do deserve death, but now it's helped me practice my jutsu and get stronger. Maybe one day I'll die in a hole and none of this shit will matter. But maybe one day my Blood Blade Jutsu will save Sunagakure." Icho shrugged. "Besides, the scorpion can provide us with plenty of supplies."

Shikadai followed Icho's gesturing arm and found Shinchi hard at work on the scorpion's tail-or what was left of it. While he and Icho had been talking, Shinchi had sectioned off the creature's segmented tail and stored it in scrolls. "The scorpion's shell is ideal for making puppets," Shinchi explained. "And scorpion venom is used in almost every recipe of poison in Suna." Shikadai's eyes grew wide as he saw Shinchi nonchalantly cut off a small piece of the scorpion's tail, gaze at the oozing venom glands, then swipe his finger across it and stick it in his mouth. "It's potent," he announced. "This will be useful."

"What do you think you're doing?" Shikadai cried. "That could kill you!"

Icho burst out laughing and walked towards her companion, leaving Shikadai behind. "He isn't a Suna puppetmaster if he isn't already immune to scorpion venom in small doses. This has got to be the most basic of poisons in the whole desert. If all the water on earth disappears one day, everyone will die except people from Sunagakure, 'cause we'll be living off scorpion venom."

She joined Shinchi and began helping him salvage the usable parts of the scorpion's corpse with obvious expertise and experience. Shikadai, left behind to fend for himself, looked away and suddenly noticed, once more, the dark splotches that stained the clean slate of the desert sand.

He walked towards it and knelt down, dragging his fingers through the wet, dark blue sand. The wetness from the scorpion's blue blood preserved the trails of Shikadai's fingertips in the sand. The sight and the stench seemed to hypnotize him.

He suddenly felt dizzy, but it was not from exhaustion or dehydration. He stared at the scorpion's blood and wondered if it was anything like a drug. He felt his heart pumping hot blood through his veins and to his head and he wondered if this was anything like getting high.

The soundscape of the desert melted into the one in his head. _Nothing will ever wash away the sin that stains the sand in the desert, Shikadai..._ the voice crooned. _But this is a monster's blood. The essence of a second-class life spilled on the ground. When night falls, the blue color will blend in with the sky. But the true, pure essence of sin is not blue, Shikadai._

 _You know you want it, Shikadai...you know you want...what will never blend in with the sun or the stars, the wind or the rain...crimson..._

Yes, he did. And he knew where he could find that color. Shinchi and Icho were blocked from his view by the large dead "second-class" creature's body, but there was another source of the pure crimson drug that was much closer, and he needed it to feed his addiction now.

He yanked out a kunai and held it over his own arm, preparing to drive it in, ready to see birth in the color of red, when-

A firm hand gripped his and held it firmly in place, not allowing it to go any farther.

Shikadai truly saw red at that moment, and upon the moment of human contact his brain fired and tried to turn and wring himself out of Shinchi's grasp, tightening his hold on the kunai and trying to plunge the weapon deep into a see of blood between the older chunin's electric blue eyes.

 _CLANG_

Shinchi's expression had not changed, but he was now joined by his female teammate at his side. She wore a grim expression and her almond-shaped eyes were narrowed. Her own kunai stood in the way of Shikadai's, and the boy searched her eyes and body movement for hate or fear.

Her voice was clear as water, and Shikadai felt the toxins drain out of his body. "I'm not on anyone's side, because there are no sides to take here." She put her own kunai away. She gave Shikadai one last look-not one of judgment, but mere sternness-and walked away. Shinchi nodded at Shikadai as if they'd just had a polite exchange and walked away as well, going back to set up camp as he had been before this whole fiasco had started.

Defeated, Shikadai sank down onto the sand beneath him, aware of its wetness and also aware that it had lost its intoxicating effects on him.

 _There are no sides to take here,_ she'd said.

But there were humans and monsters, so how was that possible?

Was Shikadai on the scorpion's side? It was a beast, a monster, no doubt-yet innocent, sacrificed for the sake of a species it did not belong to. Shikadai did not feel anything in common with the scorpion, and even now he felt disgust towards its sharp limbs and twisted body.

So was he on Icho's side? She had slain the scorpion for no reason-she'd claimed it was for the good of her village and for humanity, but she had not even attempted to make the ordeal look humane. Her derived pleasure from the killing was shouted to the world. And Shikadai couldn't help but admit that her performance had exhilarated him as well. So was she a monster?

But Shikadai remembered her grace, her movements, her cocky voice-so unguarded, so raw, unhidden, honest-human.

So who was the monster?

 _Monsters are born, not made,_ he insisted to himself. _The scorpion is indeed the monster here. It was born that way and how Icho decides to act doesn't matter...so the side I'm actually on is..._

He truly wanted one or the other to be the answer to that question, but when the voice answered for him, it did not satisfy his desire. _It doesn't matter who is what, Shikadai, because monsters don't take sides. They're alone-they were born that way, made that way, and will remain that way-forever._

He looked into the desolate horizon of the desert and he suddenly wasn't sure if the landscape was emptier or his heart.

That night, while he and the two Suna chunins to whom he had revealed himself-and who still looked at him the same way they would anyone else-were camping out to rest, Shikadai didn't close his eyes to sleep.

But neither did he remember to open his eyes to look at the stars in the night sky, which numbered more than the sand.

* * *

 _Why is the sand the color of sand? Why is it so hard to discern one grain from the trillions of others? Why does it look like a blur beneath my feet-_

Because you are travelling quickly. Very quickly. You are almost there-

 _No! I cannot let my thoughts go there. Okay, okay. Why is the sky so plain, so blue, so cloudless-_

Because you are in the desert, and you are getting very, very close to its capital city-

 _No! Not again! I can't think about that! Why is this so troublesome?_

Because you're going to see the Kazekage soon-

 _I'm such a fool, a disgrace, an idiot, an embarrassment, a failure..._

Shikadai displayed his conflicting emotions shamelessly on his face, travelling behind Icho and Shinchi so as to hide his expressions. The two chunin were leaping swiftly through the sand at a quick but manageable pace. They'd had a good night's rest camping in the desert the night before, so it was not because of tiredness that Shikadai desired to take two leaps backwards for every bounding leap he forced himself to go forward.

Maybe he owed his reluctance to the embarrassing incident from that morning, about which he was still flaming:

 _A sharp pain in his bladder aroused Shikadai from his state of half-sleep. His eyes shot open; it was very early in the morning, but the sun rose early in the desert, so the sand was cast in a soft, warm glow. That was the least of Shikadai's worries, however:_ he really needed to go the bathroom.

 _He'd gone camping numerous times with Chouchou and Inojin in the past, so his need should have been no surprise to him. He was experienced at hiding his private parts behind a tree or bush when he needed to relieve himself, but what was he to do when there_ were no trees or bushes to hide behind? _The stir of Konoha wildlife was usually enough to mask the hissing sound of relieving his bladder_ , _but what was he to do when there_ was not a peep of wildlife?

 _His sleeping bag had become all too tight and too warm, and he began thrashing and squirming about in desperation and embarrassment. Maybe a quick excursion at doing his business would go unnoticed. He'd just have to get up without rustling his sleeping bag too loudly, and go far enough so that his business wouldn't be heard._ Yeah, that could work. _He craned his neck to look at Shinchi; the boy was lying in his own sleeping bag, back facing Shikadai. Okay, all clear. Then he turned to the girl to make sure that she too was asleep, only to find that-_ two wide, orange orbs were staring right at him.

 _To the protest of his bladder, he stilled his entire body, staring back at the orange with his own shell-shocked teal. To make matters worse, the girl opened her mouth and hissed, "Look, I'm not interested in watching you piss or shit, but just_ go _. Your squirming and thrashing woke me up."_

 _A subtle cough could be heard from Shinchi's direction, and Shikadai realized in horror that he, too, was awake. He scrambled all too quickly out of his sleeping bag, heading to do what he needed to do._

Shikadai's face turned red, and he was thankful once again that he was travelling behind Shinchi and Icho, lest they see his crimson visage of humiliation.

The voice decided to make itself known. _Even you know that that isn't the real reason,_ it said in a way that made Shikadai gulp. _You're just nervous to see Uncle Gaara._

And indeed, he was. He thought about the biography he'd conceived in his mind several weeks ago: _The Life of Shikadai Nara_. The life of the main character of that book was centered around laziness, mundanity, Konoha life, Ino-Shika-Chou, his parents Shikamaru and Temari, and the occasional splash of color in the form of his Uncle Gaara. But he'd departed the book's original and planned plot, and for once, he couldn't see past the title of the next chapter.

Uncle Gaara had always been part of his life, but had, for the most part, remained in the background. Even then, he'd always had the power to jar Shikadai's soul in that discreet way of his. Shikadai had never really seen Uncle Gaara in his official capacity before; he very well was aware of his uncle's Kazekage status, but Sabaku no Gaara was less of a Kage to him than an uncle, and Shikadai had only ever seen the man on his visits to Konoha. Now, he was going to see this man in Sunagakure, and in Sunagakure Gaara was the most important man there was. It was like the difference between receiving a king in his own humble abode, versus being invited to attendance of the king in the king's own throneroom.

And was Shikadai nervous? Hell yes, he was.

 _Change_ , Uncle Gaara had said. That was what the wind was trying to tell him. Going to a foreign village to train under its Kage-that was change indeed. But Shikadai never imagined that Uncle Gaara would be the very one to blow him the direction of that change.

"We're here!"

Icho's voice shook him out of his thoughts, and Shikadai looked up to see something majestic rise out of the sand. Its color and composition was the same as that of its surrounding desert, but the grandeur of its shape was unmistakable. The sun was now high in the sky, and its rays hit the outer walls of Sunagakure so squarely that the city shone blindingly.

They stopped when they reached the area just outside the city walls. Shikadai placed a hand on the warm, cemented sand, now close enough to see with amazing the clarity that the surface of the walls were not smooth, but, rather, engraved with intricate images.

"That was done after the last War. Uncle Gaara hired some of the city's best artisans to carve the history of Sunagakure onto its walls."

Shikadai turned at the sound of the deep voice-a _familiar_ voice, one he didn't get to hear too often, but one pleasantly unmistakable at that. "Uncle Kankuro!"

"Hey, kid! C'mon, get over here!" Shikadai didn't need to be told twice; tensions had been running too high too long back in Konoha, and the trip to Sunagakure through the desert had been... _difficult_ , to say the least. He rushed into the warm embrace of his uncle, the middle Sand Sibling. He heard Shinchi and Icho chuckle somewhere behind him, but he ignored them.

"Shi-ka-dai! Hey, I've missed you! How have you been surviving without your favorite uncle, huh?"

Shikadai left the answer to that question- _just barely_ -unanswered, but he smiled vigorously into Uncle Kankuro's hug.

Kankuro took his nephew by his shoulders and took a good look at him. He laughed. "Look's like the climate did a number on ya! Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Kankuro then turned to the two chunin. "Hey Shinchi, Icho! Nice to see you again! Thanks for bringing Shikadai here-your mission's finished, but why don't you come along to the Kazekage Office with us to see if Lord Gaara has anything to say to you."

Shinchi bowed deeply. "Of course, Kankuro-sensei. Thank you."

 _Kankuro-sensei?!_ Shikadai thought in surprise. If Shinchi was a disciple of Uncel Kankuro-the hands-down best puppetmaster in the world-then that chunin had to be pretty damn good.

Kankuro led the three young shinobi through the entrance of Suna. The passageway was long, dark, and narrow, and only magnified Shikadai's anticipation of seeing the city for the first time.

As they approached the other side of the passageway, Shikadai heard signs of a commotion. The sunlight from the other side grew increasingly brighter and closer, and just as the four of them emerged into the village, Shikadai heard "Lord Shikadai!" and was pounced upon.

He open his eyes to see two old friends-Yaoki and Korobi. He looked around and saw a considerable crowd. They were dressed similarly to the way Yaoki and Korobi dressed: in long, loose clothes and an occasional turban that functioned as shields against the desert sun, wind, and sand.

The crowd was, most noticeably, not about in its own affairs, but encircling him.

"Hey, Yaoki, Korobi..." he gently pushed the two overexcited shinobi off of him. He could practically _feel_ Uncle Kankuro, Shinchi, and Icho rolling their eyes behind him. "What's with all these people?"

"People?" Korobi blinked owlishly. "What people?"

"Uh...you know, this huge crowd..."

"Hah!" It was Uncle Kankuro. "You don't know half of it, Shikadai. For such an 'important person' like you, this is nothing. If Uncle Gaara had released the information of your coming to Suna every reporter and TV station would be waiting at the gates for your arrival."

"Whoa..." Shikadai scanned the cheering 'crowd'. _Suna's Little Prince_ , indeed. Wow. And he'd thought Yaoki and Korobi were overreacting. "Heh, heh..." He'd seen Sarada Uchiha's crowds of fanboys back at home. He wondered if he was going to be plagued with their female counterpart here in Sunagakure. He hadn't accounted for that at all...

"C'mon, Shikadai." Kankuro waved him over. "At this rate, we'll never make it to the Kazekage Building. I'm gonna use the Teleportation Jutsu-you just hang on tight since you don't know your way 'round this city yet, 'kay?"

Shikadai gulped. Uncle Kankuro and Yaoki and Korobi had been a decent distraction, but the prospect of seeing Uncle Gaara became all too real all of a sudden once again. "O-okay." He itched to say the word _Troublesome_ but he held his tongue.

The Teleportation Jutsu felt familiarly disconcerting, nauseating, uncomfortable-and all too fast. A swirl of sand later, he and his three companions were standing outside a wide, tall, plain earthen color door. He looked around the hallway inside which they were standing; several elaborate rugs adorned the walls, and Shikadai noted with interest the many circular, stained glass windows. _This is all traditional Suna art_ , he realized. He shouldn't have been surprised that the Village Hidden in the Sand possessed such artisan glasswork. The colors were vibrant and the abundant desert sun made them glitter without pause, casting bright, colorful shapes of light onto the walls of sand.

"Come in," called a quiet, yet commanding voice.

It came from beyond the door.

Shikadai hadn't the time to inhale when the door swung open- _of its own accord._

Uncle Kankuro hadn't touched the door-Shikadai looked up at him questioningly, but his uncle looked unsurprised. Instead, the hood-donning man looked at his other uncle-the sand-wielder who'd opened the door with the power of his will alone to welcome them in. "Hey little brother, look who's come to see you-" Uncle Kankuro was smirking.

Shikadai looked about the Kazekage Office and found that it suited Uncle Gaara's taste well: it was humble, plain, and bland. The desk was all too large and the chair in which the Kazekage sat was several sizes too big for the small man. Several framed photographs sat atop the desk and behind the Kazekage was a large circular window-this one was made of plain, clear glass, and it provided a crystalline view of the prosperous desert city. Several cacti plants sat on the sill.

The office would have looked too big, the city even bigger, for a man of Gaara's small stature. Their size should have overwhelmed and overshadowed the presence of the small man. Nevertheless, Gaara's presence somehow extended beyond his body, and was infused in every grain of sand within the Kazekage Office, within the Hidden Village of Sunagakure.

The Kazekage slowly looked up from his paperwork, the pen in his hand slowing to a stop. _This is the fated reunion!_ Shikadai thought. He tried to muster up his nervousness, but suddenly found it impossible. _Uncle Gaara was never supposed to make me feel nervous,_ he realized _. Why had I felt nervous in the first place?_ The pale green eyes of one of the most powerful men on earth bore into the Shikadai's own dark green ones, and the only message the boy received from this king-like figure was happiness at getting to see his nephew again. All trepidation melted from Shikadai's soul, and suddenly, the only thing he was able to feel was happiness at getting to see his beloved uncle again. His lips broke out into a smile, and Gaara's quirked up a millimeter in response. "Hey, Uncle Gaara," he greeted shyly.

The silence with which Gaara answered Shikadai was not uncomfortable. Uncle and nephew seemed to have forgotten the presence of the others at that moment, and the others respectfully allowed them their moment uninterruptedly.

Slowly, the Kazekage stood up, his eyes never leaving Shikadai's. Gaara looked at his precious boy as if he needed it to make sure he wasn't just a desert mirage. "Welcome home," he finally said, his voice quiet as ever, but with love and affection somehow seeping through his monotone.

Shikadai grinned.

The Kazekage looked at the two Suna chunin, who bowed to him with deep respect. The kindness never left Gaara's eyes. "Shinchi, Icho-" he began. Then he, to the surprise of all, bowed to the two of them in return. "I never doubted your capability of completing this mission successfully. But I must admit that your task was of...personal value to me. I am in debt to you for showing Shikadai here and keeping him safe, and you have my utmost gratitude."

The two chunin would not allow their Kazekage to debase himself to them. _Hierarchy must be a deep-rooted tradition in Suna,_ Shikadai realized. Shinchi and Icho fell to their knees. "Please don't bow to us, Lord Gaara." Shikadai was surprised that Icho could sound so polite. "We could never repay you for what you've done."

"Not just for Sunagakure, but for _us_ , as well." Shinchi had lifted his head a little.

Gaara looked touched. "Please, rise. There is no need for you to do this."

Shinchi and Icho complied.

"The mission went well, Lord Gaara, no interferences," Icho told her Kazekage. "Your nephew's not quite used to the desert, but he was trying. I think he'll be a great student."

"I'm sure," Gaara replied, without missing a beat. There was utmost confidence in his voice.

Shikadai flushed at the sudden shower of compliments from Gaara and _Icho_ , of all people.

Shinchi then turned to Shikadai's other uncle and pulled out a few scrolls from the bundle on his back. "We managed to get the supplies you asked for, Kankuro-sensei."

Kankuro took the scrolls happily. "So you guys caught a giant scorpion? Sweet."

"Let us know if you need any more favors."

"Thanks a bunch, you two. I can always count on the two of you." Kankuro winked. "All right, you deserve to take a rest. You're dismissed."

The two chunin bowed and exited the room, Kankuro waving after them. The puppetmaster suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that his nephew was seething at him.

" _You_ were the one who asked them to catch that scorpion?" Shikadai grit out at Kankuro.

"Yeah, well..." Kankuro scratched the back of his head. Then his eyes suddenly lit up with understanding and he guffawed. "Oh! I didn't say they had to do it on this mission, though, just whenever they would be travelling in the desert! Ah, those two..."

"That thing scared me out of my mind," Shikadai complained. "I hate you," he groaned.

Kankuro laughed even harder, but Shikadai suddenly realized Uncle Gaara had a look of horror spread across his face.

 _What did I say? Oh right, I said I_ hate _Uncle Kankuro._ _I forgot that Uncle Gaara can be surprisingly clueless sometimes._

"Uncle Gaara, I was joking," Shikadai found himself explaining. "As in, I didn't mean what I said literally. It was intended for, uh...humorous purposes?" Shikadai felt himself doing a fail job of explaining himself. "Uncle Kankuro knows I love him, right Uncle Kankuro?"

It was a prime moment to tease Shikadai, but Kankuro knew to better than to do so with a sensitive subject such as love and hate in front of Gaara. "Sure I do," the man tried to say casually.

Gaara seemed relieved, and Shikadai and Kankuro both were more relieved by that than they would have liked to admit.

Presently, the younger of the two uncles spoke again. "You must be tired from your mission," Gaara told Shikadai. "I'll have Uncle Kankuro show you home-"

"No!" Shikadai interrupted too quickly, promptly feeling embarrassed for his random outburst. He turned red as both his uncles turned to look at him inquisitively. "No, I-sorry," he said lamely in a considerably softer voice. "It's just-I'm tired and all, but I don't really think sleep is what I need. I've-missed you, Uncle Gaara..." the Kazekage's eyes widened considerably. "Couldn't I just-stay here with you? Just for today, really!"

Kankuro smiled. He patted Shikadai on the head and said, "That's just fine, Shikadai. 'Bout time I took a break from keeping your Uncle Gaara from working too hard. Your mother and him, both stubborn mules, you know that? Besides, your room isn't ready yet." That was a lie, but Kankuro felt proud for saying it.

Shikadai turned to watch Uncle Kankuro saunter out of the room. Once the large door had been opened and closed again, leaving Shikadai alone with the Kazekage, Shikadai turned back to Uncle Gaara, realizing that he hadn't actually received an answer from him.

Gaara was smiling. In a soft, innocent, childlike voice full of wonder, he replied, "Yes."

Shikadai didn't know how Uncle Gaara could proceed with paperwork without making him feel ignored. Uncle Gaara's eyes remained trained on the mounds of paper in front of him, only raising occasionally when an attendant came to wait on him or a shinobi came to report a mission (Shikadai noted that all these people noticed him with surprise-and bowed with deep respect to the Kazekage's nephew as well). Uncle Gaara's feelings were felt, not seen, and Shikadai could feel his awareness of his presence, his satisfaction with it.

Shikadai had first studied the fine, glittering grains of sand that composed the Kazekage Office's thick walls: they felt comforting to touch, and he knew somehow that Uncle Gaara's chakra was imbued within them. This office was alive; Shikadai happily ran his hands along it. Later, he studied the numerous books in Uncle Gaara's bookshelves. Most of their titles were so long or complicated that Shikadai merely dubbed them code name _Troublesome_. Even later, he sat across in a chair (black velvet, he noticed, just like the ribbon he'd given his mother) and watched Uncle Gaara's flowing cursing flow out of his pen. A Konoha shinobi really shouldn't have been watching the Kazekage work, but being his nephew had its quirks after all. And Sabaku no Gaara didn't particularly care about formal protocol, either. Shikadai somehow found himself sitting by the cactus plants at the window behind Uncle Gaara, gazing with awe at the endless expanse of Sunagakure and the desert. Yaoki and Korobi were right; almost every other wall had been brought to life by unique, patterned murals that breathed vibrant, exotic colors into the desert city.

He was like a little bug gravitating closer and closer to home, and finally, Shikadai wandered away from the window, drew up a chair, and sat right next to Uncle Gaara, continuing to watch him work. He allowed himself to be enveloped in the feeling of the sand and Uncle Gaara's chakra, and before he knew it, sleep had enveloped him as well.

When he woke up again, his head was nestled in something rougher than the black velvet he'd fallen asleep on, yet somehow more comfortable. He realized he was surrounding by loose red cloth, and as he senses came to, he noted that something was running through his hair; it felt somewhat like what his mother would do when she was being generously gentle and he had let his hair down. However, this felt twenty times gentler than Temari's gentlest.

He twisted his neck to look and froze; sea foam green eyes were less than an arm's reach away, looking down at him.

The hands running through his hair stopped, and Shikadai witnessed the Kazekage freeze in similar manner that he had. Gaara looked as if he'd been caught doing something red-handed-a rare moment like this would probably be one Uncle Naruto would want him to capture with his camera. Shikadai decided to disregard his Hokage's orders this time around. He was too embarrassed for falling asleep in the Kazekage Office and distracting said Kazekage from his paperwork by snoozing _in his lap._ Chouchou would've never let him live this down. Even Inojin would have teased him about.

He removed his teammates from his thoughts and scrambled up and off Uncle Gaara's lap. It was pretty comfortable but...he was _twelve_ and a _shinobi_ , dammit! He coughed and Uncle Gaara looked away.

"U-um, I didn't mean, u-um, I'm sorry," Shikadai stammered ridiculously.

Gaara looked at his nephew tentatively and noticed the red dusting on his cheeks. Though he didn't show it, Gaara felt relief. He'd thought Shikadai had been disgusted with him running his hands through his hair-he'd only been craving familial touch, really. But Shikadai's demeanor soon disproved that. The boy was simply embarrassed. That was much better.

The Kazekage stood up, calmness having now washed the shock off his features. "Come," he told Shikadai, holding out his hand.

Shikadai was twelve now, but he made up an excuse in his mind for why it was okay to walk home hand in hand with his uncle at this age.

Home turned out to be less than a block away. Shikadai looked up at his uncle in surprise when they reached a tall, sand wall that was covered in unfamiliar markings and symbols Shikadai couldn't read. There was no door, and Shikadai felt confused as Gaara stopped right in front of an apparently dead end.

"Place your hand on the wall," Gaara instructed.

Hesitantly, Shikadai did as told, eyebrows raising when he felt the cool surface beneath his palm grow warmer and suddenly disintegrate into a million grains. The disassembled sand reassembled themselves into a open archway, allowing the uncle and nephew pair to walk through it and into a spacious area, in the middle of which stood a large building (also made of sand). There was a makeshift desert garden around it, and the walls of the structure itself was also covered in the markings that had adorned the wall outside.

Shikadai turned back to the wall and eyed it questioningly. "What was...that?"

"This place is considered sacred to many in Sunagakure, and it is one of the most protected places in this village. This is the Kazekage Clan Compound."

"The Kazekage Clan...?" Shikadai had never even known his mother and uncles came from a formal clan.

"The walls of this compound recognize the chakra of the members of this Clan. Should additional members be admitted into the Clan, their chakra signatures would be imprinted into the walls. At present, there is only one non-blood member of the Kazekage Clan whose chakra this compound recognizes: Shikamaru Nara. However, this is a secret, for the Council would certainly be upset at the fact that the only person other than the Sand Siblings allowed into this complex is a shinobi of Konohagakure."

"...What about me...?"

"You were born into this clan as a blood member. The Council would not dare undermine the bloodline of their most precious clan. Besides, the Council has no power to prevent these walls from recognizing your chakra as one of ours."

Shikadai's mouth was open with awe. He looked around at the complex, then took a step forward. To his surprise, the sand at his sprung at swirled about him, forming flowery patterns that seemed to bow at his feet.

"Did you..." he asked Uncle Gaara.

"No. That is the sand's reaction to your own chakra."

To think that he had been born into the most prestigious clan in Suna...the sacred sand in this place had awaited him and served him since birth. He felt proud to be part of a clan...and he suddenly realized, with a jolt, that he was already a member of the Nara clan. But this place would not betray its own blood, and he was undoubtedly a member of the Kazekage Clan too.

"This complex has housed the Kazekage Clan since the founding of Sunagakure," Gaara elaborated. "Once upon a time, this place symbolized the power and wealth of the Kazekage regime, and was the source of the fear of the people of Suna. Today...it still symbolizes power and wealth, but it's been transformed into a symbol of hope, of everything the desert people have fought through and survived, and of Suna's undying motivation. The people wanted their Kazekage to live here once more, to complete that transformation...seventy rooms is too many for Kankuro and me, but for the sake of the people we've honored their wishes."

Shikadai started. "Seventy rooms? And no one else lives here?" Gaara shook his head. "The other clan members...?"

"There are none."

The silence grew a little uncomfortable, and Shikadai imagined he felt the sand at his feet fret a little bit. "What...happened to them?"

Gaara sighed, his eyes growing weary and his eyes not looking older, but looking as if they had seen a million years worth more of things. "I...wish I could say nature took her toll on them, but she was too late."

In other words, they hadn't died the "die of old age" or "die in your sleep" kind of death. Shikadai shut up about that, but he had one last question to ask.

"Uncle Gaara, were you born into the Kazekage Clan?"

"Yes," Gaara replied.

Shikadai marveled at the fact that not only was his mother a sister of the current Kazekage, but that she was also likely to have been blood-related to a past Kazekage as well. And since he was Temari's son, that meant he was, too.

He only wondered why she'd never mentioned it before.

The house itself looked three stories tall from the outside, but it had hidden an extensive underground area. It was unique in that even though its height spanned about seven stories, it did not have distinct floors with sets of staircases in between. Instead, a single, spiraling corridor led up and down the abode, the seventy rooms lined along it.

"Once a room in this house belongs to you, it belongs to you forever," Uncle Gaara explained. "Sunagakure legends tell that a person's soul lives on in the sand even after death, and that their home will continue to house their spirit." Was Uncle Gaara telling him that their house was haunted? "That is why some rooms in this house will never be used again."

"Um...okay." Shikadai hoped it wasn't as creepy as Uncle Gaara was making it sound.

"Hey Shikadai, is that you?" Shikadai looked up to see Uncle Kankuro. "Welcome home!"

Shikadai relaxed upon seeing his other, more outgoing uncle. He loved Uncle Gaara, but he realized that the man would do a good job of telling scary stories, not something Shikadai was a fan of. In a house that possibly housed ghosts of the Suna's past Kazekage Clan members who "nature hadn't reached in time," Shikadai felt he needed the puppeteer's jovial spirit.

Kankuro and Gaara both showed Shikadai to his room together. "Make yourself at home, Shikadai!" Uncle Kankuro said. "Uncle Gaara and I did our best to make your room look nice. If only your mother was here to help...wait, scratch that, even Gaara and I combined are better at home decoration than Temari is." He scrunched his nose and Shikadai laughed. He was touched. His uncles were Suna's most important men and they'd taken the time to make his room presentable.

"I'll let you know if any improvements can be made," Shikadai replied cheekily. Kankuro ruffled his hair.

The boy turned to Uncle Gaara. "So this is my room, huh?...Forever, you said?"

Gaara nodded seriously. "As Uncle Kankuro said, we tried to furbish your room as best we could. However, it is yours; you may do whatever you wish to do to it...and you may do whatever you wish to do... _inside_ it."

Uncle Kankuro was not laughing. Even though Uncle Gaara had read _Icha Icha_ before, Shikadai was sure he was not insinuating anything of... _that_ nature. Uncle Gaara was insinuating something else. But...what _was_ he insinuating?

His uncles left him outside his room and bid him good night, each retreating to their own rooms, which were close by, only one door down from his own. He was glad; his uncles were close by, and the empty room separating his and theirs did not belong to a ghost but to Temari. One left to sleep for the night, and the other...Shikadai wasn't sure what Uncle Gaara would do. Maybe look out the window all night.

"We begin training tomorrow morning," Gaara informed him nonchalantly on a final note.

Once Shikadai had stepped into his room, he became fully aware that this was not going to be a normal training mission, and that Uncle Gaara was no normal sensei. After all, normal sensei did not personally decorate their students' rooms, nor did normal shinobi get to stay in the home of a Kage whilst training.

It wasn't extravagant, but it was certainly grand. The room had to be more than twice the size of his in Konoha. The bed was bigger than any he'd seen before. His uncles must have planned this room in accordance to the colors he liked; the room was accented in dark green, cherry mahogany, and black. His bed covers were of the same color scheme, except an intricate design had been woven into the blankets. He realized that Sunagakure people must really be fans of carefully-designed, complicated patterns.

On one shelf was a set of mini-puppets. Uncle Kankuro's work. Shikadai took a closer look, and realized that there was one figurine for each of his close acquaintances in Suna. He disregarded all disinterestedly except for the ones of his parents. His heart leapt to his throat when he realized that the tiny Temari puppet was wearing a black velvet ribbon around its throat. How did Uncle Kankuro...?

Most noticeably, however, was the large, circular window that occupied most of his wall. It literally spanned from ceiling to floor, and it was a perfect frame from a full moon. The twinkling lights of a nocturnal Sunagakure glistened like jewels in the desert; from his window, Shikadai could see the village and the walls, as well as part of the expanse of the empty desert beyond it.

He noticed that what looked like expensive, pure gold decorated most of the furniture in his room-not excessively, but just enough to make it look like it belonged to royalty. It was the sole theme in his room Shikadai couldn't quite wrap his mind around. He'd never been associated with gold in the past, nor had he been particularly fond of the precious mineral. Its only connection to him was the Gold Dust in Uncle Gaara's hourglass. But he had to admit, he still didn't understand the symbolic meaning behind that.

Nevertheless, he found himself appreciating the shiny metal for the first time, unable to understand why it brought him a strange sense of home and satisfaction.

* * *

Normal sensei asked their students to wake up early and meet at a designated location to begin training. Reason number two Uncle Gaara wasn't a normal sensei. The next morning, Shikadai woke up of his own free will at 7am-inhumanely early for him. He hadn't brought any clothes from Konoha, but he found his wardrobe already full of clothes his size. He chose to wear a simple pair of black shinobi pants, a loose, red long-sleeved shirt, and a white scarf around his shoulders in a style he'd seen many Sunagakure people sport.

Uncle Kankuro and Uncle Gaara had long finished their breakfast by then, the former out to his duties already, and the latter-

Waiting patiently for him in the kitchen with breakfast.

Shikadai had worried that he was distracting the Kazekage from his duties, but Gaara replied, "I always do things in order of priority."

They'd walked together to the training hall. Numerous people had bowed to them on their way there, to all of whom Gaara graciously returned with a nod. "How am I supposed to act around these people?" Shikadai asked his uncle, afraid of doing something wrong in the presence of the important Kazekage. He knew that Uncle Naruto always had reservations about being seen in public with his family, particularly Boruto. Not that he was ashamed of them; Boruto and Himawari could just be a bit...rowdy.

"Why must you act?" was all Gaara said in return.

The training hall was inside the Kazekage Tower, and looked very similar to the Chunin Preliminary Stadium back in Konoha.

Shikadai usually felt bored and tired in anticipation of training, but not this time. How could he, when he could feel the raw power emanating from his sensei before him, the wisdom and capability of this man so strong that he could feel it in the air itself? Shikadai felt exhilarated. What was Uncle Gaara going to teach him?

He schooled his face into calm and stood up straight as he faced Uncle Gaara, whose ringed aquamarine eyes were stern and unwavering. Arms still crossed tightly over his torso, the Kazekage began to speak.

"All jutsu are, essentially, the same. Chakra can be molded in different ways, and the end results are different, but the medium-chakra-never changes.

"You have practiced the jutsu derived from the Nara Clan for the better part of your life, so it may seem daunting to attempt a foreign jutsu. However, remember that the chakra is still yours, you are still the one manipulating it, and the only thing that has changed is the aftermath.

"The Shadow Possession Jutsu...to perform it, one collects their chakra and allows it to pool at a specific area of their body-that being the one attached to their shadow. Usually, that is the feet. With a careful amount of control, one infuses the right amount of chakra into their shadow-enough to control but not too much as to lose control of the shadow and sever it. Chakra is retained at the soles of the feet to act as an anchor to the shadow. The chakra within the shadow is pulled and stretched and made to act like a rope, with its controller as the end."

Shikadai stared at his uncle, impressed. The Nara Clan's signature "secret" jutsu, and his uncle, who couldn't even perform the shadow jutsu, already had it all figured it.

"Shadows are nothing more than light reflected in its opposite color. You may cast a shadow, but that shadow is not your own," Gaara continued. "You must consciously make yourself its manipulator, and by doing so, you become its source and center while it becomes an extension of yourself."

They had barely started-neither of them had used chakra yet-but Gaara was already sending Shikadai's mind spinning. _His shadow was not his own?_ He'd never thought of his own jutsu in this light before. "I guess I understand...so what does this have to do with us?"

"You must understand this, Shikadai. If your own shadow does not belong to you, then the wind is not even aware of your existence."

"The wind...?" Suddenly it hit him. "You're going to teach me Wind Release." Wow, not only was it a completely a foreign jutsu on the first day of their training, it was a completely foreign _element_.

Gaara did not nod, but the notion had already confirmed itself. "In many ways is manipulating a shadow like manipulating the wind. In both jutsu, you infuse chakra into and manipulate an entity within your reach. For the Nara Clan, that entity is the shadow which lies beneath your feat. For the Wind Release, that entity is the wind.

"However, the wind is not only attached to just a certain part of your body. It exists all around you, both inside and outside. In addition, you cannot choose the wind's limits like you can the shadow: the wind chooses its own limits, and before you try to control it, you must be aware that the wind has already chosen to have _no_ limits. A shadow without a shadow manipulator cannot do harm, but the wind could kill of its own accord.

"You're going to be using the most unurly of the five elements. This title is often given mistakenly to fire, but one can put out a fire. You cannot put out air."

It was sounding more and more daunting as Uncle Gaara continued to explain, but Shikadai forced himself not to give in to the troublesomeness of the situation and to show determination.

"You never want to use too much chakra when you perform the Shadow Possession Jutsu, because shadows are timid. Contrastingly, you'll have to use ten times more chakra to perfrom Wind Release if you want the wind to listen to you. The dilemma is summoning _enough_ chakra."

Uncle Gaara turned away from him and took a few steps forward. "Collect your chakra, but don't allow it to pool at your feet: gather it in your stomach and feed it through your arms and to your hands. Once you have done that, use chakra control to compress your chakra into a thin blade and direct it out of your palms."

Gaara held his palms in front of him and breathed deeply. Twin gusts of air shot powerfully from his hands. He maintained the two vortexes for several seconds, and Shikadai became aware that they were growing larger and larger and stronger and stronger. The swirling wind started to blow closer to him and sting his eyes, but Uncle Gaara then put his hands down. He turned back to an amazed Shikadai. "Chakra has to be very sharp for the Wind Release to work. Remember that once the wind has been infused with your chakra, you must treat it like an additional appendage. By maintaining your chakra within the wind, you can change it's strength and direction."

 _That sounds like a troublesome lot of work to do on just my first try_ , Shikadai thought. As if reading his mind, Gaara instructed, "Just try disturbing the air right now." The Kazekage flicked his fingers and a pillar of sand appeared about ten feet away from Shikadai. "Direction is an important part of the nature of wind. Direct your chakra in the direction of that pillar."

For ten minutes straight, Shikadai felt like an idiot as he held his empty palms out in front of him, trying hard to manipulate what was right in front of him: air. He wasn't used to recognizing air as a substance in it of itself: he could deal with concrete things, but plain, empty air had always been regarded as nothingness to him.

Now he had to "disturb" it. He could finally understand why Wind Release was the rarest elemental release in the world.

 _How troublesome...why does it have to be Wind Release? I'm seriously working with nothing here!_

"You're allowing your chakra to pool at your feet again," Uncle Gaara commented. Shikadai looked down, and sure enough, as his uncle had said, his shadow was fidgeting, the substance he was so used to controlling straining to be released and protesting the fact that his chakra was trying to direct itself elsewhere than to _it_.

"I know, I know, but," Shikadai said in undiluted frustration. He let his hands fall to his sides. "I'm so used to letting my chakra go there, and right now I feel like I'm transferring my chakra into empty air. When I think I'm ready to release my chakra and create wind, it just redirects itself like it has nowhere to go. I'm supposed to cut the wind like a blade, right? But it's hard when it feels like I'm trying to cut _nothing_." He ran a hand through his hair. He had been rude, to Uncle Gaara of all people. "Sorry, Uncle Gaara. I'm just...frustrated." Shikadai had never been stuck on a jutsu for so long, after all. In regard to the Nara Clan shadow jutsus, he was a child prodigy who would've caught on quick as lightning if not for his laziness. For the one time he was actually trying, he was scrounging up as much results as he would were he cloud watching.

Gaara seemed to contemplate Shikadai's assessment of trying to perform Wind jutsu for a moment. "The air is in front of you but you feel nothing," he mused. "But you feel the shadow."

"Yeah..."

"Because it's _something_." Shikadai looked at Uncle Gaara inquisitively as a popping sound signified the uncorking of the sand gourd and the grainy material began to seep out of it. "Existence is an illusion. It's impossible to feel a shadow any more than you do the air. To be nothing is the same as being everything. If the wind is nothing, then it is everything. If it is everything, then it is _something_."

 _Uncle Gaara sure likes to talk in riddles_ , Shikadai thought. The sand from Uncle Gaara's gourd was still seeping out and was now spiraling upwards. He watched as it crept along the panels of light on the ceiling. "You're taking away the shadows," the boy deduced.

Sand swallowed more and more of the ceiling and the light in the training hall became fainter and fainter. Deep shadows filled Uncle Gaara's face as the sand buried the lights on the ceiling. The last thing Shikadai saw were the tufts of crimson hair that still glowed despite the blackening of the room. Then the two of them were plunged into a sea of darkness.

Shikadai held a hand in front of his face, but his moving fingers might as well have been entirely absent. _Existence is an illusion_. Uncle Gaara's sand was thorough, after all. Not even the thinnest ray of light was allowed to escape from it, and it had successfully sealed the training hall in pitch black.

"The shadows do not belong to you," the scratchy voice of the Kazekage rang out in the darkness, echoing his earlier rhetoric. Shikadai cocked his head, trying to figure from exactly what direction the voice had come. "Even the shadow can overcome the individual as an element. If darkness is the only thing you can see now, then the shadows have replaced reality and all things real and become _everything_. But everything is essentially the same as nothing."

Shikadai couldn't help cracking a smirk in the dark, wondering whether Uncle Gaara could 'see' it. Uncle Gaara's use of wordplay was astonishing. Perhaps that was what the Kazekage did on sleepless nights: manipulate his words, like he would his sand, into dilapidated shapes that made no and all sense at the same time.

"You tried to imbue the wind with your chakra but your chakra kept escaping to your shadow instead. You were not controlling the shadow, but allowing the shadow to control you. But in the darkness, the shadows are really not so different from the wind."

Shikadai nodded, trying to get used to the feel of his new environment. He'd always been able to discern the shadows from the light, however few or however many. He wasn't sure if, in the total absence of light, shadows impartially existed in every corner, or if this black darkness had nothing to do with shadows altogether.

The distraction of light and dark was now taken away, and Shikadai raised his palms once more to try to utilize Wind Release. He took a deep breath, amassing his chakra once more and preparing to release it from his hands, when the quiet voice in the dark commanded, "Stop."

"Hm?" he turned again to the direction of where Uncle Gaara's voice had come. He rubbed his eyes, a little frustrated that all he could do was _hear_ Uncle Gaara's voice, and not see him.

"Where are you?"

"What?" _What kind of question was that?_ "What do you mean? You don't mean my distance in relation to you, do you...?" Even though he couldn't see anything, he was sure that Uncle Gaara could easily find him. The sand had convenient uses like that.

"I am talking about the location your presence now occupies."

"Umm..." Shikadai racked his intelligent brain was still unable to discern what exactly he meant. He was good at solving puzzles, but Uncle Gaara's riddles were an entirely different matter. He opened his mouth to answer, already certain that it was the wrong answer. "I mean...we're _..._ in the training hall. In the Kazekage Tower. In Suna..."

"How do you know?"

"We've been here...since morning..."

"What tells you you haven't already left?"

"We've been in here...we didn't leave yet..."

"Haven't you?"

"I don't know!" Shikadai burst out.

"Perhaps you have, perhaps you haven't. Shinobi rely on their senses to tell them their location and direction. But what do you do when your senses are taken away as well? Reality becomes an illusion, and you'll have to strip down to the barest of the bare to find it again. What can you see right now?"

"I can't see anything, it's too dark." Shikadai quickly answered.

"Touch?"

"Nothing."

"Taste?"

"Nothing."

"Smell?"

"...Nothing...?" Shikadai replied once more, getting the gist of it.

"Hear?"

Shikadai paused. "Your voice," he answered blandly.

"Do you?"

"Yeah..."

"How do you know?"

 _That again!_ "Because...I don't know! I can hear you, so doesn't that mean..."

"If you can hear me, does that mean that you assume I am here?"

"Of course," Shikadai answered, with confidence at first that immediately began to deteriorate. "What else would it mean...?"

"Your hearing alone alerts me of the presence of my voice, with which information you use to infer that I am here as well. But reality is an illusion, and you must strip all pretenses to the barest to find the truth. If you tried hard, you still wouldn't be able to verify that you're in the training hall. If you looked hard, you still wouldn't be able to find me. If I told you that you are nowhere and alone right now, would you believe me? And if you did, what would you find instead?"

"I...don't know...you... _are_ here, aren't you?"

Shikadai waited for a few seconds, then waited some more.

This time, he couldn't hear Uncle Gaara's voice: all he heard was nothing, as well. Silence was all that answered him and now it accompanied him in the pitch darkness like an entity too heavy for him to carry.

He panicked for a moment, and again added another reason to the list of reasons why Uncle Gaara wasn't a normal sensei. _Troublesome!_ He crouched onto the ground and got on his hands and knees, feeling the cold, hard surface-it was the only concrete thing he could hold on to. When he stretched his fingers, groping blindly in the dark, his hands captured nothing but-

Wait a minute. _Air_.

Shikadai's eyes widened, and the panic coursing through his body suddenly started to drain away.  
 _  
"If you looked hard, you still wouldn't be able to find me. If I told you that you are nowhere and alone right now, would you believe me?"_

Shikadai realized at this moment what Uncle Gaara had been talking about. Perhaps he really was in the training hall. Perhaps Uncle Gaara really was still there. But perhaps, he was really in a place called Nowhere and Uncle Gaara was nowhere to be found. That he was surrounded by nothing but himself and the limitless, cold hard ground. None of that, however, mattered: even if he were standing in the middle of a crowded Konoha street, he might as well be nowhere and alone if he couldn't see, hear, and feel his environment. _Live_ his environment.

 _"...What would you find instead?"_

This time, Shikadai again stretched out his hand in front of him, and, carefully, innocently, twitched his fingers. He felt the fabric of reality rustling beneath his fingers; he felt the subtle disturbance of the wind at his fingertips.

He grinned brightly, having finally figured Uncle Gaara's point out, but controlled himself and positioned himself in a meditative posture. He closed his eyes—even though that really wasn't necessary, and focused on what was really important: on what he could know for sure was reality, what had been stripped of all pretense. He imagined that he was the center of a great, vast ocean—an ocean of air, of wind.

He could feel the air submersing him, its constant presence over every pore of his skin, its slender fingers combing through every strand of his hair. He felt its rippling waves, large and small, every time he made even the smallest of movements. He felt its rich energy enter and exit his body. He felt the swelling of his lungs as he inhaled, and he as exhaled, he imagined his own physical energy leaving his body together with the air, swirling into the fabric of reality around him, weaving him presence into it.

He felt the slight disturbance coming from his right: he could feel it now, he was quite sure of it, because he was connected to the wind. He was not alone.

"You have an affinity, after all," Uncle Gaara mused. "You have Wind Type chakra." As an after note, Gaara added, "Like your mother."

Shikadai had never expected his chakra nature to become of much importance: the shadow-oriented techniques of the Nara Clan hardly presented the need for elemental control. His control over the element still wasn't refined enough yet for him to know what facial expression Uncle Gaara wore, but he sported a smile himself, sure that his uncle could sense it. He placed his empty palms in front of him and took a deep breath. He drew energy from the element he was preparing to manipulate, noting how much stronger the swirling chakra inside him seemed to feel. He pushed the chakra to his hands, sharpening it into a blade, and releasing it into the world of wind before him.

 _WHOOSH_

Shikadai's teal eyes snapped open, raw adrenaline pumping uninhibited through his veins. He couldn't see it, but that seemed to matter the least of all at that moment, because he could touch it, hear it, _feel_ the untamed tearing of the wind rushing out of his body and rippling the world all around him. He drunk in the feeling of raw power and released the gushing wind from his palms for a little longer, relishing in his first time bonding with the wind.

A few stray gales continue to blow even after Shikadai had put his hands down; wind truly was an untamable element. "Wow," he breathed in awe. He took notice upon his chakra reserves, surprised to find how draining Wind Release was; he was like a tap pouring pure chakra out of his body. In that one technique—which, taking the capabilities of Wind Release into account, had actually been rather weak—he had already used almost one-fourth of his chakra.

 _Looks like I have a lot of stamina to build. Troublesome!_ Still, he couldn't suppress his feelings of excitement.

As if picking up on his thoughts (again), Uncle Gaara said, this time from right beside him, "Weapons can be used for chakra reservation, since they improve the results of shinobi's performance dramatically with the same chakra output." Shikadai heard some shuffling, as if Uncle Gaara were picking something up. "They vary in design and purpose, but some are used to amplify our techniques. Hold out your hands, I have something for you."

A ninja tool? Shikadai wondered. Other than the basic kunai, shuriken, explosive tags, and the like, the Nara barely ever used any specialized weapons. He put his hands, awaiting whatever Uncle Gaara had to give to him.

He knees buckled under the sudden weight of something long, bulky, stiff, metal, and completely undeniably _heavy_ in his hands. The iron contraption had to be almost as tall as him standing up, and it was heavily ridged and difficult to get a good hold of, not taking its weight into account. Shikadai was on his knees, struggling, and Uncle Gaara continued instructing as if nothing had happened. "This is the most powerful Wind Release amplification ninja tool, and is a traditional weapon of Sunagakure. Treat it not as such, but as an extension of your body: it is nothing more than an additional appendage, and addition to your hands and feet. When you release your Wind chakra, your chakra should not exit through your hands. Allow the chakra to continue flowing in an unobstructed path through your hands and into the weapon, and release the chakra into the wind from the end of it."

"It's…damn…heavy…" Shikadai ground out, trying to balance his own weight along with the long metal thing—

Wait. A light bulb seemed to go off in his fan. _Heavy metal weapon…traditional Sunagakure weapon…Wind Release_ …he experimentally gave the ninja tool a tug and found that it opened, and his fingers found a thick, rough, folded fabric. Holy… _shit_ …

"This is a giant iron war fan," Gaara explained. "I believe you're familiar with it."

Sure he was. His mother often forced him to polish hers for her.

"What's wrong?" Gaara asked after several moments, seeming to notice a stretch of silence too long.

Shikadai sighed. "Nothing, it's just…fans are so…" He struggled with his words. "Girly…" He was glad he couldn't see himself at the moment.

Shikadai slapped himself mentally, and Gaara remained quiet for several moments. Finally, the Kazekage said, "…Don't let your mother hear that."

Shikadai was shocked for all of one moment— _Uncle Gaara had made a joke_ —then burst out laughing. Looked like his not-so-normal sensei gave expert advice in all areas.

The nephew proceeded to learn from the uncle how to handle a war fan—an awkward affair made even more awkward in the dark. For the next hour or so, Gaara instructed Shikadai on the basics of the giant iron fan: how to open and close it, how to hold it, how to turn it, spin it, etc., all whilst being completely blind. Shikadai remembered how cold Uncle Gaara's hands were and the rare tremble they exhibited when they guided his own around the giant fan. Shikadai did his best to appear unaffected: human contact with Uncle Gaara's greatest weakness.

Shikadai couldn't help but think of how this session resembled a morbid parody of aristocratic girls taking lessons on how to be a lady. _This is how you fan yourself_ , Uncle Gaara would say to him, both of them dressed in fine, uncomfortable, stiff, expensive, and altogether uncharacteristic clothes. _Careful, the fan is heavy, so don't turn your arm that way, if you do that you might dislocate your shoulder._

Finally, Shikadai was able to balance the giant fan on his own without falling on his face or his ass every time he moved. His movements were still tremendously awkward, but slightly smoother than before. He remembered the grace with which Temari of the Sand handled this abominable weapon, twisting it all around her body like a ribbon and swinging it like it weighed nothing. His respect for his mother grew tremendously. _Giant iron fans are not girly at all_.

Shikadai felt Uncle Gaara step away from him, and he realized the moment had come: he was going to try to use Wind Release in tandem with the war fan. All three moons were open; all he had to do now was amass his chakra and swing the fan the way Uncle Gaara had just taught him.

He wiped the sweat from his hands and gripped the metal fan hard, gritting his teeth and readying himself.

"Wait." It was Uncle Gaara again.

Shikadai paused. "Hm?"

"Shikadai, what I have taught you…is really not so important. I can only teach you so much, and there are some things that _I_ will never be able to teach you. You are the only one who can learn, and the wind is the only one who can teach you."

"The wind…?"

"Air is the element of freedom. It is the purest of elements, and it never lies. Observe the wind and realize that it never hides itself, Shikadai. It is transparent and its every movement speaks of truth.

"Men often ask the wind for answers to their problems only to later accuse of it leading them falsely. However, they have never stopped to consider that perhaps it is _they_ who do not understand what the wind is saying.

"The true master of the wind does not need to have Wind Release, or the ability to create powerful gales. In fact, 'master', is a misleading term, because it implies superiority and inferiority. One shouldn't try to control the wind, but rather, become one with it. To do so, one must become like the wind: he must strip himself of all barriers and become transparent. What is within shouldn't be hidden. Remember: the wind is an expression of true self. The wind is where one shows his inner self…regardless of what they may be. The wind is where vulnerability begins."

Shikadai frowned, absorbing what he had just been told. Uncle Gaara was right, of course, but he felt apprehensive about exposing himself to "vulnerability". He had a feeling that there was something Uncle Gaara had wanted him to let out, _regardless of what that might be._

 _You see, even Uncle Gaara accepts me,_ the voice whispered in his head, suddenly returning after an entire morning of absence. _So what's the use in hiding? Don't run away, Shikadai…don't you want to become one with the wind? You'll only ever be able to do that with_ my _help…as a monster…_

Shikadai gulped and tried to hold himself back, but the voice was permeating his sanity and growing louder and louder now. _I'm going crazy_ , he thought in passing, but the voice countered, _you_ are _crazy. Insanity is your sanity and sanity is your insanity. Let it all out. The wind is an expression of true self._

It was calm outside, but it was the calm before a storm. A hurricane was going on inside Shikadai's head. Images flashed before his eyes: the splatter of blue scorpion blood in the desert, the damp sand, the kunai, Shinchi and Icho…

Mirai's shock, Inojin's and Chouchou's fear, Himawari's tears, Boruto's anger, Aunt Ino's sad attempts, Sasuke Uchiha's curiosity…

Ocean blue eyes in a clearing in the forest, the severing of a finger, then another and another, then a hand, the hemorrhage, Rasa and Karura and the figures of sand and gold…

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The beastly scream that was too horrid to belong to human being but belonged to one nonetheless, the blood purée, the dying, choking, gasping breath…

The anger, the rage— _his_ anger, his rage…the crimson before his eyes, his anger at the lies and pretenses, his horror at the truth, his frustration at being condemned to what he didn't deserve, his desire to the hands and bodies that cursed crushed into bits of vermilion nothings…

"AH!"

The roar ripped from Shikadai's throat without his even realizing it. He spun around and dragged the giant iron fan along with him, and although it felt heavier with the burden of his rage, the red-hot fire in his veins gave him twice the strength. Without abandon, he around him in a full circle, releasing his hatred into the wind. He heard the world around him, and the winds screamed.

Shikadai's fan had long since finished its full arc journey, but the winds around him showed no signs of dying down as his skyscraping emotions continued to savagely push the gales forward. His eyes were wide open as he stared at the carnage he couldn't see, and then—

Blinding light started to creep back into his vision and he became distracted, lifting his hand to shield his eyes, which had seen nothing but pitch darkness for hours, from his returning vision. The winds started to die down, and Shikadai blinked the daze out of his eyes and looked at Uncle Gaara, who was not looking at him. The man's eyes looked unaffected by the sudden light, but Shikadai could tell that they were reflecting discomfort—concern—of some of other kind. The Kazekage pressed his palms together, and the moment they contacted, all traces of Shikadai's windy wrath disappeared.

Shikadai looked about the training hall, only now just remembering where he in fact was the whole time. He blinked, then saw bits of shattered sand on the ground. He took a double take when he realized that it was the sand pillar Uncle Gaara had summoned earlier. It had been blown completely off its hinges—uprooted off the ground, and its jagged remains lay sprawled all over different corners of the hall. Though he had accomplished a feat by destroying it, Shikadai felt no pride.

Finally, Uncle Gaara tore his eyes away from whatever it was he was staring down and looked at Shikadai. The man's face was impassive as ever, but Shikadai thought they looked colder than usual. Then he saw something that made his heart plunge into the depths of deep, icy seas: he might have imagined it, so brief it was, but he was sure it had been there. A flash of disappointment in Uncle Gaara's eyes.

His voice stuck in his throat.

"That concludes our session for today," the Kazekage said simply, arms crossed tightly over his chest and expression giving nothing away. With that, Uncle Gaara turned on his heels and started walking away from Shikadai.

"W-wait!" Shikadai cried out desperately.

Gaara stopped in his tracks but did not turn around to face his nephew, leaving Shikadai to stare at the back of a head of blood-colored hair.

"I know you didn't ask me to come all the way to Suna just to teach me how to use the fan," Shikadai continued. "Mom is the best Wind user in the world, so she could have taught me if she wanted to do, back in Konoha."

"That is correct," Gaara replied. "Today was a just a test, after all."

"W-what? A test?" Shikadai would've been more careful had he known.

"Yes."

"Well then…" he fidgeted, "did I pass?"

Gaara turned his head slightly in contemplation. "Not all tests are meant to be passed," was his reply. Then the Kazekage swept out of the room.

And suddenly, Shikadai really _was_ alone.

 _Is Uncle Gaara really disappointed with me?_ he wondered, panic rising to his throat. _I thought he wanted me not to hide, to let my true self out, so I thought he…_

 _Or was he looking for something else?_

His fingers gripped tighter around the iron fan he was still holding.

 _I have to be my true self._

 _And you know where, and who, that true self is, don't you…Shikadai?_ the voice asked. _Are you going to keep on hiding me?_

Shikadai grit his teeth even harder and squeezed the iron around the fan so hard his knuckles turned white. With yet another roar, he swung his fan around again, creating blasting winds that matched the pandemonium inside him.

In the process, he forgot to listen to what the wind was telling him, what the wind would never lie to him about, and he failed to notice two aquamarine eyes still watching him.

 _Ha! Do what you like, Shikadai Nara_ , the voice reminded. _Just remember, whenever you need me, I'll be 'hiding' in here. You won't have to be scared anymore, because we can do the things that we like to do together. Together we'll become one with the wind. You'll know where to find me…_ when _you need me._


	12. Chapter 11: A Shinobi's Worth

**Author's Note: IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: over the past few weeks I've had a serious falling out with the Naruto series and have lost all interest in the characters known as Gaara and Shikadai. As such, I most regrettably announce to you that I will be discontinuing this story.**

 **…**

 **APRIL FOOL'S!**

 **Yeah, I'm late. I know that. But it's only been a day so I insist upon my fooling rights.**

 **I should have seen the looks on your faces. Really, I should have.**

 **Just so I can torture you a little more, I'm going to go ahead and let you know that next chapter (12) is going to be FUCKING AWESOME. In my oh-so-humble opinion, which really is very humble. Just sayin'.**

 **If you haven't yet, please go check out my newest story, "Don't Let Me Disappear".**

 **And yes, Ittetsu is a canon character.**

Chapter 11—A Shinobi's Worth

"I hate-" Shikadai paused mid-rant. "No, I don't _hate_ him, I could _never_ hate him, but, oh god, he is driving me _crazy_." He looked up with burning teal eyes at his uncle. "Uncle Kankuro, how in the world do you put up with him?"

"Finally, _somebody_ understands my pain," Uncle Kankuro rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I mean, it's been a fucking week since I got here!" Shikadai slammed his hands on the table. He drew a couple of questioning eyes from fellow patrons of the ice cream shop, but they all seemed to deem his behavior normal once they realized he was with Kankuro the Puppetmaster. Profanities seemed to slip from his lips much easier around Uncle Kankuro, and Shikadai seemed to act more open and reckless around the middle, and most open and reckless, Sand Sibling. He angrily took a large bite from his frozen dessert, only to regret it soon after when a brain freeze seized his head. He fought to keep up his appearance.

A week since he'd arrived in Sunagakure-a week since the Wind Release and giant iron fan had been added to his arsenal, and in that week alone, Shikadai had worked harder than he probably had for his entire life, striving to make himself worthy before the only he man that he felt understood him, the only man who could hear the voices inside his head other than himself. Uncle Gaara was also the only man who could actually understand those voices themselves-something even Shikadai hadn't yet learned to do completely.

It had taken him a few days to get going, but soon, the reason why Shikadai was hailed a prodigy had become clear. It was as if he had been using Wind chakra all his life-in fact, Shikadai himself couldn't believe that he hadn't until now, with an affinity as strong as his own. With each minute that passed, he was becoming more and more attuned to the waves that rippled the air around him, and the movements and emotions he required to move the wind was becoming smaller and smaller; he now felt like a living, moving force around which the energy of the wind inevitably swirled. Using the giant iron fan still required lots of practice, since it was such an atypical weapon, and Shikadai had yet to use an actual jutsu like the Wind Scythe with it, but he had already been approached more than once by fawning Sunagakure citizens claiming he was well on his way to becoming one of their best Wind users if he were to continue as he was.

Yaoki and Korobi were surprisingly and inexplicably good friends, and Shikadai often found himself falling back on their trustworthy company. He'd invited them to train with him several times, although their sessions together were more personal performances than anything else, since watching Shikadai wield his new Wind Release techniques seemed to blow Yaoki's and Korobi's minds so far out of the water they were no longer able to fight. The two loyal Gaara-fanclub members were spreading the news of a new prodigious legend, the talented nephew of the Kazekage himself-and they seemed to be doing a pretty good job garnering a second fanclub designated for Shikadai.

He'd thought Yaoki and Korobi were too easy to please, but one day Uncle Kankuro had dropped by to see him train with Uncle Gaara, and Shikadai had looked like the puppetmaster like he was an alien replacement of his real uncle when the hooded man started discreetly wiping tears from his eyes.

"You twerp, you blew all that sand in my eyes with your big-ass fan," the man had defended. "Reminds me of Temari when we were little."

"Was I that good?"

"Good?" Kankuro had laughed. "Brat, you were fucking awesome!"

But Uncle Kankuro's impressed reactions to his progress had only made Uncle Gaara's reaction all the more baffling. The Kazekage had said that their first day of training had been a test, and that Shikadai hadn't really come to Suna just to learn how to use a war fan. But they hadn't moved on to anything new material since then.

"Haven't you tested me enough?" Shikadai had asked after yet another day of fan training.

"Perhaps."

That wasn't really an answer at all, but it seemed to be the only kind Uncle Gaara was ever willing to give.

"What else are you going to teach me?"

"What do you think?"

"How am _I_ supposed to know?"

No reply.

"My progress, though. Have I at least been doing okay?" Shikadai pressed.

Silence. Then, "It depends on what is or isn't deemed 'okay'."

 _Why do you look like you're disappointed every time you look at me?_ was the question that never left Shikadai's lips.

"What's wrong?" Shikadai had asked.

A pause. "That will tell itself in due time."

Was Uncle Gaara keeping a secret from him? The idea settled badly in his stomach, but he had a feeling that wasn't it. "That will tell itself in due time" meant Shikadai was going to find out sooner or later, right?

Why couldn't Uncle Gaara just talk to him?

"Tell me what I'm doing wrong," Shikadai had pleaded. "Please, I'll try hard. I won't be lazy like I used to be. I'll do whatever you want. I can change."

But Gaara had never had any expectations for Shikadai. The uncle didn't want anything from his nephew; he was merely observing him. But it'd gone on for so long that Shikadai felt vulnerable and on display. He needed a reaction from his new sensei. He needed to know, to understand.

Shikadai didn't doubt that Uncle Gaara understood _him_. He had embraced this fact at first, but now it felt like Uncle Gaara was constantly looking straight into him, communicating with his soul, and yet, he couldn't catch onto what Uncle Gaara was trying to tell him. He knew that Uncle Gaara was aware of his inner demons and instability, but he had a feeling that _look_ in Uncle Gaara's eyes saw even deeper than that.

Now he couldn't stand the fact that Uncle Gaara understood him _too well—_ understood him beyond the point he was able to understand himself.

What twisted irony of fate. He'd come to Sunagakure upon Uncle Gaara's invitation, and to be honest, he'd have followed his sand-wielding uncle to the hellish South Pole if he had had to. But here they were, in Sunagakure—a city that was too hot and too dry but a city that Shikadai found he _loved_. It was the magical sand sculpture of children's dreams, and its people were tough, honest, strong, and sometimes brutal-they had to be, to survive—and fearless, both of external perils and of being soft and kindhearted inside. Yet, he couldn't reap the benefits of a perfect city because he was missing one essential: Uncle Gaara's thoughts.

After simmering in his thoughts for a while, Shikadai realized that Uncle Kankuro was currently silent and turned to look at him. The hooded puppeteer was regarding him with amused eyes. "What?" Shikadai asked indignantly.

Kankuro sniggered, "Nah, 's nothing. You're cute when you're brooding like that. Just like Temari."

Shikadai stared at Kankuro with an expression of horror. Had Uncle Kankuro just called him cute? And worse, had he called his _mother_ , Temari of the freaking Sand, _cute_?

"I'm not brooding!"

"She does a terrible job at hiding it when she gets a brain freeze, too," Kankuro informed him, taking a bite out of his own ice cream.

Shikadai pouted.

"Ha! You're pouting!"

Shikadai glared at his obnoxious uncle. "Troublesome. Do you take pleasure in my pain or something?"

"Course I do. Wouldn't be a fit uncle otherwise."

Shikadai scowled. "I wonder if Uncle Gaara feels the same way sometimes."

"Eh? Gaara?"

"I mean, he doesn't show it or anything, but I seriously think he's waiting for me to explode."

Uncle Kankuro looked thoughtful. "I'd tell you to get used to it, but that'd be cruel, even coming from me. I've lived with your Uncle Gaara all my life and I sure as hell ain't used to all the tricks he has up his sleeve. Ya know, patience is certainly a virtue your Uncle Gaara doesn't lack, but he has trouble realizing that not everybody can wait for something for a hundred years with a straight face."

"Seriously! I mean, I thought Mom was bad. She nags and bitches but at least I know what she's feeling from a mile away and I can have proper time to hide. But Uncle Gaara is always so calm-like nothing's wrong—but then something's _clearly_ wrong. But then he won't share with me what the hell it is, so what I am supposed to do? And it's not like I can have any reason to _hide_ from him, either, unlike Mom." Shikadai seemed to deflate. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish Uncle Gaara _would_ get mad sometimes."

Kankuro shook his head. "Careful what you wish for, kid."

Shikadai cracked one eye open. "What, have you seen him get mad before?"

Uncle Kankuro's eyes widened considerably. "Hell yeah." A shiver seemed to course through his body.

"Worse than Mom?"

Uncle Kankuro looked at him incredulously. "Your mother is a fucking _angel_ in comparison."

Temari of the Sand, an _angel_? These comparisons were simply getting to weird today. "I have difficulty imagining Uncle Gaara mad," Shikadai admitted. _What in the world was a young Gaara like?_

"Me too," Uncle Kankuro replied, earning him a look of surprise. "I'm glad it will never happen again." Uncle Kankuro suddenly looked distant, as if reminiscing.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because that was a long time ago and I know my little brother now. I may not be able to read Gaara like a book, but I do _know_ him. It took a long time for him to become my brother, and that's not ever gonna change again."

Shikadai eyed Uncle Kankuro oddly for his strange rhetoric. He wanted to say that Uncle Gaara couldn't have "become" his brother; they were born that way. But of course Uncle Kankuro would know that, and he'd said it with such genuine conviction that Shikadai hadn't the heart to question him.

Presently, Kankuro shook himself out of whatever memory he'd been recalling and grinned at Shikadai again. "Kid, you must have been pure evil in a past life to have been born into our family. To be raised by three Sand Siblings! Ha! I won't say your dad isn't a weird dude but he's pretty normal compared to us. You're lucky to have him in your genes, or else you'd end up in an insane asylum way sooner."

"Are you saying I'll end up there eventually?"

"Most likely, but don't worry too much: miracles can happen!"

Shikadai glared at his teasing uncle before sighing. "At this rate, I'm still gonna end up in there sooner."

Kankuro's smile softened. "Look, kid: I know you're frustrated because Uncle Gaara isn't opening up to you. You're not the first. In fact, he opens up to you more than I've seen him anyone else."

"Really?"

"Totally. I completely agree that there's something he's probably not telling you. But just remember that Uncle Gaara does everything for a reason, and he would never lie or keep a secret. Just hang in there. He's not just any other sensei so you're bound to get some pretty unconventional instruction. You might have one hell of a ride learning but once you've learned the lesson, it'll be totally worth it. I'm sure of it."

"I get it...I mean, I would never doubt his ability as Kazekage. It's just...I can imagine that he was a pretty brilliant student as a kid. Does he really know how to put himself in his students' shoes and deal with _teaching_?"

Kankuro suprised Shikadai by nodding confidently. "Oh yeah. It's not like he hasn't taught before. Before he became Kazekage, Gaara taught at the Academy with Temari and me."

Shikadai was incredulous. " _What_? Seriously?" He laughed. "I can scarcely imagine that! Poor kids. I'd be surprised if they could understand half of what he was saying." As the information seeped in, Shikadai suddenly realized something. "Wait, so he's had students before?"

Kankuro's face fell. "Well, yeah but...just one. And that was back when he was twelve."

"One?! And when he was _twelve_?" _That's my age!_ "That's it?"

"Technically speaking, two, if you count Shiira. But Shiira was a taijutsu speciailist who couldn't use ninjutsu or genjutsu—not unlike that Lee fellow in Konoha. So Shiira was more of the one teaching Gaara, not the other way around. Your Uncle Gaara couldn't do taijutsu for the life of him. I think he was worse than your dad."

Shikadai laughed at the jab at Shikamaru—who had potential but was too lazy to practice much taijutsu—and then tried to imagine his stiff uncle performing taijutsu and failed. He pushed the strange thought out of his head and returned to the more important matter. "So did Uncle Gaara's student go on to do great things? Or is he already in the asylum?" he joked.

"It's a she, Shikadai. And she's not in the asylum yet, but she might be on her way," Uncle Kankuro joked back. "She's pretty crazy if you ask me. Just not the kind of crazy you'd expect."

"Uncle Gaara's only student was a woman?" For some reason, Shikadai found this terribly amusing and laughed.

"Yeah, you sexist moron," Uncle Kankuro jabbed teasingly.

Shikadai grinned obnoxiously before sobering again. "So what's she doing now?"

"She one of our elite jounin. You'd never expect it from the looks of her, really."

"So she survived Uncle Gaara's harsh training regimen, huh?"

"Heh, she sure did. More than survived it, if you ask me."

Shikadai was suddenly uncontrollably curious. He quickly scooped the remainder of his melting ice cream in his mouth, hurriedly asking Uncle Kankuro, "What's her name?"

"Her name's Matsuri. Why are you..." Uncle Kankuro suddenly looked worried. "Wait. You're not planning to...go talk to her, are you?"

"What's the harm? We are 'sibling students' after all. If she survived Uncle Gaara's training then she should surely be able to give me a few tips."

"Well, it's just that...Matsuri can be..." The puppeteer searched for the proper word for a while but eventually gave up. "...troublesome, for lack of a better word."

Suddenly Shikadai looked worried too. "What, is she loud and bossy?"

"Loud? Yeah. But no, she's not bossy. She's..." Again, Kankuro tried to define Gaara's former pupil. "She might fall in love with you at first sight..."

"How old is this woman? I thought Uncle Gaara taught her when he was twelve, so she couldn't be so young..."

"She's in her early thirties."

"Then unless she's a pedophile I should be fine." He shoveled the last of his ice cream into his mouth while Uncle Kankuro looked at him dubiously. "Thanks for the ice cream, Uncle Kankuro, see you tonight?"

"Later," Kankuro sighed, watching his nephew dash off. "Don't say I didn't warn you..."

* * *

 _Damn, I didn't consider that she might not be home_ , Shikadai thought dejectedly as he knocked on the door of a decent-looking home that apparently belonged to a woman named Matsuri. It was a two-stories tall and a simple brown color, respectable but not too conspicuous and only a block away from Suna's Academy. The windows were dark and it looked empty. _Maybe I could leave her a note or something._

Shikadai fished about his pockets, looking for a piece of paper on which he could greet Gaara's former pupil and suggest a meeting. He pulled out a random scrap and pen and dropped onto the floor, scribbling, _My name is Shikadai Nara and I'm a student of Sabaku no Gaara's. I'd love to meet you sometime_

He stopped when he heard shuffling from behind him. He turned around and got up onto his feet when he saw someone approaching.

The someone was wearing the standard Sunagakure shinobi vest and a pink shirt underneath. It was a woman; she was pretty, but not beautiful. She wore a short, dark blue skirt and long socks of the same color that extended up past her knees to her thighs. Her face was framed in coffee-colored shoulder-length hair, and most notable was her forehead protector, which was tied like a thick ribbon around her neck.

She was dirtied and looked distracted as she walked, not noticing Shikadai until she had almost reached the front door and after he cleared his throat. She looked up, slightly startled, and Shikadai noticed with extreme interest the compassion and innocence reflected in her warm, chocolate brown eyes.

 _This lady's a shinobi?_ Shikadai thought. _She looks way too soft. No wonder Uncle Kankuro said I'd never tell from the looks of her. She didn't even notice me standing here, in front of_ her own house.

"Well, hello," she said kindly. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Don't mind my appearance, I just got back from a mission. Could I help you?"

Shikadai cleared his throat once again and started scratching the back of his now ponytail-less head (he hadn't adopted the signature Nara hairstyle since his father had taken out his hair tie that day). His initial excitement at the idea of meeting an _actual student of Uncle Gaara's_ had now waned into the slight awkwardness characteristic of first meetings. "Well, I'm looking for a kunoichi named Matsuri, and I was told that she lived here-"

"I am Matsuri," the woman interrupted, not rudely. Her voice was high, feminine, soft, and altogether unlike Temari's. Shikadai noted that Matsuri was short and skinny, her physique altogether lacking in the strong muscles that his own mother possessed in her arms, legs, and torso. _Stop comparing every Suna kunoichi you encounter to Mom_ , Shikadai berated himself. _She's a special case and is even stronger than Dad._ Despite himself, he went a step further and compared Matsuri's physique to Uncle Gaara's, who, despite being the Kazekage of Suna, Shikadai often found to look too short, too thin, too pale, and altogether to frail. But if Uncle Gaara's appearance had taught him anything, it was not to assess anyone's ability upon appearances. "And you are-" the woman continued, presumably to inquire the identity of the boy at her front door.

Presently, Matsuri abruptly stopped speaking, dropping her inquiry halfway in favor of staring at Shikadai as if in awe. The awkwardness of the situation suddenly increased tenfold and Shikadai fidgeted under the undecipherable silence. In his desperateness to focus on something other than the odd kunoichi's ogling, Shikadai fixed his teal eyes on something perfectly round and "O" shaped.

In other words, Matsuri's gawking mouth.

"Umm...yeah, I'm—" Shikadai began, opting to introduce himself since the woman had failed to finish asking his name. However, he hadn't the time to finish before the "O" that was Matsuri's mouth was suddenly much closer, along with the rest of her face and body. Heat flushed his cheeks as his face was suddenly cupped by her two gloved hands. Her mouth still had not closed, and she was holding him as if he were a precious artifact that might disappear upon rough handling. Her brown eyes bore into his own with passion and intensity, and Shikadai contemplated screwing his eyes shut.

 _You sure she's not a pedophile...Uncle Kankuro?_

The vulgar notion was, fortunately, rapidly dismissed, when emotional tears suddenly welled up in Matsuri's eyes and she removed her hands from his face in favor of gripping him more firmly by the shoulders. "Teal," she squeaked. "Those eyes, that color...I'd recognize them anywhere!"

"Uh...ma'am?"

"You're Shikadai!" she squealed, grabbing the poor boy and squeezing him in a bone-crushing hug. She really was strong despite her size. "Lady Temari's son! Oh my goodness I can't believe this!"

"How do you know who I am?" a bewildered Shikadai questioned.

"Darling, how could I not?" Matsuri replied, dramatically dabbing her eyes. The gesture reminded Shikadai of Aunt Ino, but somehow it was much sweeter and more genuine on Matsuri. "I was a student of your uncle and a subordinate of your mother. We're very good friends! And there's only one person in the world with beautiful green eyes like that—Lady Temari! Well two now, of course, because your eye color is just like hers! But let me see..." she studied his face. "Aside from the color, though, your eyes look JUST LIKE GAARA-SENSEI'S!"

Her enthusiastic outburst startled Shikadai less than the meaning of her statement. Shikadai didn't look anything like his Kazekage uncle, as far as he was concerned. _Although_ , he thought, _lately there_ have _been people making strange comments about my appearance._ He reminded himself to take a good look at himself in the mirror—something he'd avoided as of late. He didn't want to be confronted with the...creature he'd find staring back at him.

Matsuri was gushing. "How is Lady Temari doing? We all miss her very much here in Suna, and I know Gaara-sensei must miss his big sister too. Poor Gaara-sensei! Tell Lady Temari to come back to Suna whenever Konoha gets too rainy...but of course we'd understand if she wants to stay there, besides she's the best ambassador Suna could ask for..."

Matsuri looked at Shikadai seriously. "Does that smart Konoha guy treat her well?"

"Who?...oh, Dad." Shikadai was amused. Shikamaru Nara was revered and respected in Konoha as one of the village's finest shinobi, but here in Suna he was nothing more than the "smart Konoha guy" who'd married the Kazekage's sister. "Yeah, he treats her fine. Lets himself get abused by her all the time. Their bickering is a drag. But I suppose they love each other."

Matsuri laughed. "Well, I wouldn't put it past Lady Temari to choose a fine man for a husband!" Her voice dropped by several octaves, as if she were imparting a secret. "They look so good together, don't you think? You should have seen the way they looked at each other at their wedding..." she sighed contentedly.

"You were at their wedding?" Shikadai asked, surprised. Shikamaru and Temari seldom mentioned their marriage ceremony, though both agreed that it had been more troublesome than necessary.

"Of course I was! In fact, I was Lady Temari's maid of honor!"

"What?" Shikadai was astounded. This meant that this Matsuri woman really was a close friend of the family. Despite their nonchalance regarding the subject matter, Shikadai knew that Shikamaru's and Temari's wedding had been one of the most important unions in the shinobi world; it had finally linked Suna and Konoha as kindred. To have been the maid of honor of the bride at that ceremony...Shikadai wondered why his mother had never talked about this kunoichi before.

"You know," Matsuri continued, "your mom had a crush on that intelligent guy for the looooongest time. She would always blush and deny that he was anything but a lazy pig! But I knew better of course, it was an obvious sign of looooove." Matsuri giggled. "Of course, your dad liked her back a lot too. He would have been stupid not to. I didn't know that man very well but he was always smiling at her. And then one time after a mission, he asked her to stay behind and I think that's when he asked her out! It was so cuuuuute!"

 _I need to get to know this woman better_ , Shikadai thought. _I'll bet she knows a bunch of pricelessly embarrassing stories about Mom and Dad when they were younger...no wonder Mom never mentioned her. Matsuri probably knows things Mom would never want me to know._

"Lady Temari used to write to me sometimes and send me your baby pictures—you were so adorable, honey!" Matsuri said in delight. Shikadai reddened slightly in embarassment. "She doesn't do that so much anymore though..." the kunoichi frowned. "She didn't even let me know you'd be visiting Suna!" She quickly brightened. "That's alright, though! You found me on your own! You know what, I'm going to be the best auntie ever while you're in Suna! C'mon, Shikadai, I'll go buy you some nice clothes!" She started pulling Shikadai along.

"Hey, wait a second, Miss!" Shikadai protested. "No need to get overexcited." _And shopping is a drag; count me out._ "We have all the time in the world; I'm not in Suna to visit. I'm here on an extended training mission."

Matsuri looked shocked. "In Suna? Training mission?" She took him by the shoulders and shook him. "How long will you be here?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Depends on how I do. Maybe a year..."

"A whole year?!" Shikadai could literally see confetti being thrown inside Matsuri's head. "You're going to be in Suna for a whole year!" Shikadai was squeezed in a tight hug once more. "Sweetie, that's just wonderful! There are so many fun things I want to take you out to do! I promise you'll have the best time ever Shikadai, Suna's an awesome village, especially with Gaara-sensei as Kazekage, and all of us love you to pieces already!"

Uncle Kankuro's words were proving correct; this lady was troublesome indeed. Despite himself, Shikadai felt a grin tugging at his lips at antics of this woman who was apparently a close friend of the family's.

"So...a training mission?" Matsuri inquired with her big, wide curious eyes. "Who're you studying with?"

They'd come to the topic of concern in Shikadai's mind, and he heaved a sigh. "That's the very thing I came to talk to you about, Miss Matsuri. You see, I'm actually training with...Uncle Gaara."

Matsuri gawked at him before screaming. "You're GAARA-SENSEI'S STUDENT! He—he—he—he hasn't taught ANYONE since me and Shiira! I thought he wasn't teaching anymore—but I suppose he'd make an exception for his darling nephew. He's super super super busy, you know, but I bet he makes the time just for you!" She squealed and pinched Shikadai's cheeks. "You are SO lucky, sweetie, Gaara-sensei is the BEST thing ANYONE could ask for, ever, and I bet he's the most awesome uncle and sensei in the WHOLE world!"

Shikadai smiled lightly. "Yeah, he's pretty great..." His smile fell slightly. "I really want to try to understand him. Sometimes it's really hard to figure out what he's trying to tell me...in fact, everything about Uncle Gaara is always so mysterious. I could ask Uncle Kankuro but it's hard when we're all family, so that's why I wanted to meet you, since you're not too close, but probably know him better than a lot of people." He sighed. "I know it's only been a week since I got here, but I'm starting to question Uncle Gaara's teaching methods..."

Matsuri gasped. "You shouldn't _ever_ doubt Gaara-sensei, sweetie!"

"I know that...but..."

"He's the best teacher in the whole world, believe me! He knows what he's doing..."

"That's what Uncle Kankuro told me also," Shikadai responded. "I wish _I_ knew what he was doing, though. I know he's not happy with my progress but he won't tell me if anything's wrong! How am I supposed to improve if he doesn't tell me anything? Sometimes I think maybe I'm doing real awful or something and he's afraid of hurting me with whatever critique he has to say, but he shouldn't feel that way because we're family. Right?"

"Oh, but Gaara-sensei is always extra careful around the people who are precious to him," Matsuri shook her head. "But when it comes to this type of things I don't think he'd keep a secret from you. Gaara-sensei thinks secret-keeping is bad."

"Really? Well, I don't think he's necessarily keeping a secret from me either. Argh, I just can't figure it out what he's up to though. Was he like that with you?"

"Hmm..." Matsuri tapped her chin in thought. "He could be vague sometimes, I guess, and it definitely did take more than just the first try to get what he was trying to teach me."

"Why couldn't he just be more clear sometimes?"

"Oh no, Gaara-sensei is always perfectly clear," Matsuri corrected, her faith in her sensei undying. "He just doesn't use words to say it, because he personally thinks words are unclearer than anything. He likes to _show_ you what he wants to teach you... rather than tell you. But he always wants to wait for the perfect moment, so maybe that's why you're feeling so confused right now." Matsuri smiled gently at him. "Mind me asking what Gaara-sensei's been teaching you for the past week?"

"Of course not," Shikadai answered automatically, "He's been teaching me how to use the Wind Release. He's taught me how to use one of those giant iron fans like my mom's."

Matsuri's eyes lit up, but not from enthusiasm from the knowledge that Shikadai was learning to use a traditional Suna wind weapon, as the boy expected. Understanding seemed to dawn her and she said, "That's just it—why you're feeling so confused. The most important lessons that Gaara-sensei teaches have nothing to do with jutsus or fighting. Everything he teaches has a deeper meaning and the actual jutsu is usually the least important part of it! Gaara-sensei doesn't really speak literally, so to speak, so you can't take him literally."

"A deeper meaning, huh?" Gaara himself had told Shikadai that his learning to use the iron fan was just "a test", so what Matsuri said—that the jutsu itself was the least important part—made sense.

Shikadai sighed to himself, realizing that he hadn't really gotten anywhere besides receiving a confirmation that Uncle Gaara did indeed speak in riddles, and despite his analytical prowess he still wasn't anywhere nearer to decipher Code 'Uncle Gaara' yet.

But Shikadai pushed that out of his mind and suddenly did not feel as disheartened as before. His curiosity had prompted him to assign himself a new mission, and he was target was staring him in the face.

Matsuri—this woman—her undying confidence in his uncle was astounding, her veneration of his words unchallengeable. Shikadai looked into her chocolate brown eyes and somehow _knew_ that they expressed more than hero-worship. They were a pair of eyes that had genuinely _seen_ Gaara. What had she seen? What did she know? Why was she so confident about Shikadai's uncle when Shikadai himself was having doubts?

Shikadai smirked up at her and the woman, sensing a change in Shikadai's demeanor, lit up her large round eyes with unveiled excitement. "I have an idea," Shikadai said.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Shikadai cried out. His outburst was only part of his plan. This kunoichi was too good for his outcry to be purely an act.

He'd told himself he'd take her seriously. She was the apprentice of Sabaku no Gaara, after all. But she had more flattering and flighty mannerisms than any opponent he'd ever faced—not to mention that her weapon of choice was a johyo, a dart attached at the end of a long rope. A major weakness against the Nara Clan's Shadow Possession Jutsu, since the johyo could easily cast a shadow on the ground connected with its user's and in the perfect range for a shadow manipulator like Shikadai.

Despite Matsuri's adoration of and reluctance to harm Shikadai and anyone else remotely related to her Gaara-sensei, she'd agreed to a spar. He'd worried she wouldn't take him seriously.

Now _she_ was the one forcing _him_ to take things seriously, and yet he _still_ wasn't sure if _she_ was really taking things seriously.

 _Idiot!_ he chided himself. _She's a jounin, of course she's good!_ A fangirly, squealing one at that.

He jumped up just in time as the johyo swept the sandy floor of the training field in an attempt to tangle his feet, only to duck back down and roll to his left as the pointed dart came within inches of snagging his hair. Had he still sported the Nara ponytail, it would have.

If his mother hadn't a preference for insanely heavy metal weapons like her fan, the johyo would have been good for her. It would have kept her husband and child on their toes.

Matsuri's johyo was so fast that it barely cast a shadow on the ground—but it did, which was why Shikadai's plans were only _half_ falling apart. He knew he didn't have time to go on offense right now, but being purely in defense helped him observe. And Shikadai Nara was very good at observation.

Whenever Matsuri swung her arm in a wide motion, the johyo would make a large, circular, sweep; when she flicked her wrist, it would snap like a whiplash; when she rotated her wrist rapidly back and forth, the Joyo would wriggle like a long snake in midair.

It might take him a lot longer to win this thing, but he could snag that shadow and win this thing.

That is, unless Matsuri decided to start taking him seriously.

 _Since when have I cared?_

Matsuri was smiling, and Shikadai found himself not minding, because it was not one of those smiles he usually found on the faces of his opponents, like the cocky smirks his mother was fond of throwing him or the shy grins of pity like one of Mirai's. Matsuri was smiling just because she was happy and having fun. Nothing more to it.

Shikadai narrowed his eyes when Matsuri suddenly retracted her johyo and leapt backward some good feet away from Shikadai— _she's smart_ , he observed, _she's staying out of range of my shadow_.

Matsuri pressed a hand sign against her chest and Shikadai knew that things were getting more serious, indeed.

In less than a blink of an eye, Matsuri's johyo snapped out once more like a whiplash—only this time its rapid, lasso-like movements were imbued with Wind Chakra.

They were in an outdoor training field, and Shikadai hadn't thought much about it at first—he trained in outdoor training fields all the time. But in Konoha those were grassy things, but in Suna, the ground on a training field was just as loose and sandy as that of the surrounding landscape. Matsuri's johyo slapped the loose sand in the field and her wind chakra made the ground burst into blinding clouds of dust. Now he regretted their decision to spar outdoors.

 _Shit! I can't see a thing! This is why Wind Release is so troublesome,_ Shikadai coughed, rubbing the sand out of his eyes and off his tongue. The sand hung in the air like a dry fog, and the radius of Shikadai's vision field was reduced to a measly few feet.

His eyes widened when he saw Matsuri's johyo emerge from the plumes of dry dust. He quickly ducked out of the way. He couldn't see Matsuri, and thus couldn't read her body movements, but assumed that once the johyo missed him, it would recoil back into the depths of the desert fog and reemerge from a different point to attempt to ensnare him again, continuing to try to catch him unawares until it actually succeeded.

However, Shikadai's prediction was, for once, awry, as the johyo whizzed past him, having not even entered a foot's range within him. The entire johyo had been thrown through the dust cloud—and had missed him completely, landing soundlessly in the sand.

An average ninja might scratch his head and wonder if Matsuri had just outrageously missed her target and managed to fling her own weapon out of her own hand, but Shikadai was by no means average. He didn't need to look before he started running away from that johyo, because there was only one reason why it was lying on the ground with its user nowhere in sight— _it wasn't a johyo_. Well, it was, but the metal dart at the end had been replaced with a—

 _BOOOOOM_

-an explosive tag.

The world had turned into a ghastly black color of smoke and charred sand, but Shikadai wasn't paying attention to any of that. He was only aware of the ringing in his ears and the last time he had been in such close proximity of an exploding tag—when he'd fought Ryomen's goons.

So distracted by this memory was he that he failed to notice one key difference about last time and this time. Last time, he'd been flung harshly onto the ground by the force of the explosion and had wiped a dribble of blood from his chin as he struggled with the pain and to get up. This time, he was kneeling on the ground, coughing from the smoke and eyes watering from the heat, but otherwise completely unbruised and unscathed.

The smoke from the explosion had painted the protective Gold Dust beneath his body black, hiding it from his view.

Shikadai shook his head to clear it of soot and of his turmoil. _This is just a spar, Shikadai. With Matsuri._ He thought of her smile. _Matsuri, that troublesome nice lady._ Her genuine smile. _Yeah, Uncle Gaara's student._

Matsuri was nothing like those lying cheats who'd worked for Ryomen. Besides, the explosive tag she'd used was obviously one meant for training purposes—it didn't do nearly as much damage as a real one would have. Suddenly feeling much calmer, Shikadai stood up and took a few deep breaths, brushing the explosion's debris from his body. As he calmed down, he thought, _one of these days I need to tell Uncle Gaara about my problem._ _Freaking out in the middle of fights isn't exactly the smartest way to win, but it's like my brain just snaps._ Sourly, he added _, I'll have to wait for Uncle Gaara to take that stick out of his ass._ He knew he shouldn't be thinking of his uncle in such a crude way, but he was in a battle, pressure was high, frustration peaked—who could blame him?

Shikadai's fighting style was all about being unorthodox and surprising the enemy. This time, he surprised himself with his unorthodox-ness by rummaging through his baggy pockets (all Suna clothes were loose and baggy) and pulling out a fan (an arm-length, handheld one for training purposes).

He'd never used the Wind Release in spar or battle before, so he was going to have to be careful about his chakra expenditure. He closed his eyes, forgot about the explosion and the smoke and Matsuri and himself—and remembered the wind.

He swung the iron weapon around his body, relishing in the exhilaration of the air around him bonding with his chakra and bowing to his command with a _SWOOSH_.

Shikadai's wind techniques weren't enough to cause any damage—he was still too new and inexperienced at it, not to mention that this wasn't an adequately sized weapon. Still, when he cleared his eyes, he saw to his satisfaction that nothing could escape the wrath of the wind's direction—all of the hovering sand, smoke, and debris had been cleared away, nowhere in sight—

And neither was Matsuri.

Alarm bells rang inside Shikadai's head. The worst disadvantage any shinobi could have was not knowing where his opponent was.

Shikadai closed the mini war fan and held it out in front of him in a defensive position. Iron fans were surprisingly good for defense because the metal could act as a shield.

 _Where did she go_? The training field was flat and unobstructed, and there wasn't anything in sight that Matsuri could hide behind if she wanted to.

Unless she had left. But Shikadai seriously doubted that Matsuri would abandon a spar with him—she was Gaara's student after all—and something about the way the wind was _too_ still told him that she was somewhere close. Shikadai was reminded of Uncle Gaara's rhetoric: _reality is a deception._

Still holding the closed fan out in front of him, Shikadai slowly turned 360 degrees, scanning every corner of the training field. Seeing nothing, he wondered if Matsuri was using a genjutsu on him, but nothing happened when he performed genjutsu dissipation.

 _Shing_

He turned just in time to bring the metal fan up next to his head to block the knife that had been thrust at him. He opened his mouth to say, "There you are—" but stopped short and took a full step backwards when he observed the scene before him.

The blade of the knife was still pointed in Shikadai's direction, poised to strike, but the knife itself was wielded by some invisible user. It appeared to be suspended in midair by some ghostly force.

It was really just a knife, but seeing it hang in midair was a bit disconcerting and Shikadai felt a real chill travel up his spine.

"Well, hello there," he greeted the creepy knife nervously. He blinked when the knife was waved back and forth, as if it were greeting him back. _Why do strange things like these only happen in Suna?_ he bemoaned in his head. _Things were never this weird in Konoha._

The knife finished waving merrily at him and thrust itself forward, aiming for Shikadai's stomach this time. A clang and the loud screeching of metal on metal resulted from the contact of the blade and Shikadai's iron fan.

Shikadai stumbled a bit when the knife was removed and blinked once again when he realized it had disappeared from view. Again, the training field was deserted, no weird hanging knives anywhere to be seen. Wait, what was that gleam—

He twisted his arm backward just in time to deflect the attack to the back of his neck. He still had no idea where Matsuri was, but he sure as hell knew the knife hadn't come alive on its own, even if he didn't know how she did it. The way the knife had merrily waved at him in greeting was most definitely characteristic of Matsuri's personality. She was behind it somehow. And she was barely giving him a chance to think or breathe between each time he had to detect and deflect a blow. Damn, she really was a troublesome woman.

This spar was really running askew from the way he'd planned it to be, the way he'd thought it'd be. They'd gone off into a direction in which he was no longer in control, and had no idea what to expect from his opponent next. Taking his chances, he raised his fan up to block the knife yet again, and when it disappeared from view, he crammed the fan it under his arm and put his hands together in preparation for his signature jutsu.

He was lucky that the knife reappeared right in front of him this time, so he didn't have to turn around to yell, "Shadow Possession Jutsu!"

The knife had no user but it did have a shadow—and Shikadai had successfully captured its. However, he frowned when the knife dangled limply in the grasp of his shadow. He had been hoping that the knife's shadow would somehow lead back to Matsuri, but Shikadai plucked it from the air, retracted his shadow, and turned the knife over in his hands and saw that it looked no different than any commonplace inanimate object. What the hell was the jutsu that Matsuri was using? _Creepy enchanted disappearing floating knife jutsu?_ How could the knife move on its own like it was enchanted only to appear completely normal?

He was so baffled that he barely had time to register that the cloudless sky was suddenly raining. His head jerk upwards to find a barrage of senbon heading his way, the needles materializing from an invisible cloud and from all directions.

Nothing a little wind couldn't take care of. Shikadai shoved the knife handle between his teeth and brandished the iron fan again, opening it and shoving chakra into it. The spinning blast that it emitted made the senbon needles rain in the opposite direction, away from him, and his exertion left him panting as the senbon needles stabbed the sand all around him. The Wind Release was chakra-draining, indeed, and Naras were known not to have too much of it. Matsuri was pushing his limits. He was becoming more and more unsurprised that she had been tutored by his uncle.

He could continue to allow her to play tricks on his poor mind and make random weapons materialize from thin air to attack him. Or he could pull his signature Nara move: forfeit.

But he did neither of those things, deciding that it was prime time he took things into his own hands. He needed to know where his opponent was. He'd tried listening to the wind to tell him where exactly was Matsuri's position, but the kunoichi was a wind mistress of her own right, and a powerful Wind Release user. The wind would not betray her.

But what about water?

Shikadai plunged his hand into his pouch of provisions and whipped out a scroll. A single word—水, or water—was imprinted in bold black calligraphy on the parchment. This, and perhaps one final use of the Shadow Possession Jutsu, was all he had left before this spar sucked him dry of his chakra. If not for determination alone, he would have willingly given up this spar a long time ago. No, scratch that—if not for determination, he wouldn't have gone picking friendly fights with Suna jounin kunoichi in the first place. Ah well—the desert seemed to have changed him.

His fan wasn't going to do him any more good—he'd used up too much of his strength to utilize it again—so he shoved it back into his pocket. The knife was still clenched between his teeth and he let out a growl as his hands ripped through a good number of hand signs and slammed down on the symbol for 水. He was suddenly no longer the epicenter of a whirlwind but a whirlpool—great waves of water leapt from the summoning scroll and swallowed the dry, unsuspecting sand around him and eventually the expanse of the training field. The water invaded the desert ground, drowning it in all of its cool, shimmering glory.

Shikadai was quite certain that Matsuri was using some kind of jutsu to cloak herself in a shroud of invisibility. What with the type of techniques she thrown on him so far—the floating knife and the senbon rain—hadn't seemed like long-range techniques, so she couldn't have been too far off. He already knew she wasn't using genjutsu. That meant that her body might not be in sight, but that her physical presence was still there. Water was transparent, so wherever she was, Shikadai could expect to find a Matsuri-shaped hole in the pool of water. Even if she decided to walk on water, the ripples of her footsteps would give her away. There were no walls in this training field she could scale in order to remain hidden and out of the water, so she would inevitably have to show herself. Unless she could fly, of course. Shikadai was taking his chances that she couldn't.

Sure enough, Shikadai spotted an area of the gushing water that seemed to hit a barrier and surround some invisible object— _that had to be her!_ He was surprised, however, to realize that Matsuri had only been a couple feet in front of him. She was this close and he hadn't been able to detect the slightest hint of her! He was impressed by her and disappointed with himself.

Matsuri must have realized that Shikadai had managed to figure where she was hiding out of sight in plain view, and the boy watched the kunoichi flicker back into sight. She smiled warmly at him as she reappeared before leaping out of the water and high up into the air, raising her johyo high above her head and preparing to lash it out at Shikadai.

Shikadai's teal eyes sharpened. Time slowed down as he carefully observed the movements of Matsuri's arm. Her elbow and wrist were turned at an angle that signified that she was about to snap the johyo outwards to the side—her right, to be specific. That would be Shikadai's left. Once that movement was accomplished, she would the johyo's momentum to rein it back inwards to ensnare her opponent.

Before Matsuri had even swung her johyo at all, Shikadai had already sent out a thin tendril of shadow to his left. When Matsuri moved, he would snag her johyo's shadow—and in effect, Matsuri's shadow—with it. Previously, Matsuri's johyo had moved too fast for its shadow to be caught. Now, however, the water Shikadai had summoned had turned the ground into a shimmering, reflective, moving surface—water helped shadows become many times faster and more flexible.

Matsuri moved her arm. The johyo flew in the direction Shikadai had predicted. He followed its shadow with his eyes across the surface of the water and the dark ribbon that was the rope's shadow connected with his own.

Shadow Possession Jutsu: success.

But just whose shadow had he snagged?

In horror, Shikadai turned to see that he successfully binded his shadow to the johyo, but that Matsuri had let go its handle. He'd been thinking a few steps ahead, and it dawned upon him at that precise moment that he was not the only one who could do so. Matsuri had been thinking a few steps plus one ahead of him. She'd tricked him into shadow possessing her weapon while quickly detaching herself from it. She'd known what he was planning and had never intended to fall for it. She'd planned on letting go of the johyo handle from the very start.

Shikadai had no choice but to retract his shadow, bringing Matsuri's johyo along with him. He'd seen and confirmed that there were no secret weapons or explosive tags attached to it. He held out his hand, waiting for his shadow to deliver to him the roped weapon, and whilst doing so he watched as Matsuri unceremoniously dropped back down to the ground—

 _Splash_

Wait. What?

In an ungraceful tumble, Matsuri landed in the water and slumped forward at an awkward angle. Shikadai stared at her unmoving brown-haired head and wondered, for a split second, what the hell she was doing.

It all made sense, a split second later.

Matsuri had thrown—and let go of—her johyo, knowing that Shikadai would attempt to Shadow Possess it, and in the split second before his shadow connected with her weapon's, Matsuri had utilized the replacement technique in conjunction with a variation of the transformation technique. In other words, she'd swapped places with her johyo whilst using the transformation technique to transform herself into the form of her johyo—and her johyo into the form of her body. She'd done so with such swiftness that her opponent hadn't picked up the slightest inkling of what she'd done. While her johyo now took on her appearance, it was still just an inanimate object, only appearing otherwise because of her use of chakra. That was why it'd appeared to Shikadai that she'd plummeted, unprotected, the ground. It wasn't her at all, just her johyo.

She herself was captive under Shikadai's shadow, but that was no big deal, since a kunoichi of her caliber didn't need hand seals to use the transformation technique and to change herself back into her own body. When Shikadai had retracted his shadow enough so that the "johyo" was within mere inches of his awaiting hands, Matsuri'd ended the technique and transformed back into her own body. In front of Shikadai, there was a poof of smoke and the johyo too abandoned Matsuri's appearance and resumed its true form.

If not for the sudden change in weight, Shikadai's expended chakra reserves were enough to sever the shadow possession he'd been utilizing—and not to mention his surprise, on top of that. Matsuri utilized her newly freed limbs and the boy's utter shock at having her appear right in front of him to lunge at him, and the two of them were knocked down onto the sandy ground in a tangle of limbs, Matsuri on top and pinning him down.

Those chocolate eyes stared down at him and Shikadai warily regarded his opponent, slightly out of breath and his mouth opening and closing a few times out of his pure surprise from the techniques and strategies Matsuri had used against him. She was holding him down against the sand and she was surprisingly strong for her scrawny, and the winner of this fight was clear. Shikadai had wanted to win so badly, he really had. But while the results of the spar were unsatisfying, he couldn't say that the spar itself was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an intellectually-demanding and unpredictable spar. From the looks of this woman, he hadn't pinned her to be a strategist. Suna shinobi were full of surprises, it seemed.

Considering that he was a Nara, he'd taken far too long to concede defeat, for surrender was usually the Naras' first move in battle. At this moment he had no choice; the student of his uncle had him checkmated. Defeated, he silently accepted that none of his two-hundred strategies had worked, and still commended himself for how far he had been able to pull through. Matsuri was still pinning Shikadai down onto the ground and he sighed a long sigh, tossing his disheveled ebony hair over his shoulder and shutting his bright teal eyes underneath his eyelids. "How troublesome," he groaned about his loss, not even struggling to free himself from Matsuri's grasp.

He expected her to complete her win by holding a knife to his throat or something similar in order to simulate how the deal was sealed in a real life situation. Instead, he felt her body weight grow lighter and he peeked out of his lids to find Matsuri climbing up off of him, and then, to his utter surprise, she held out her hand and offered to help him up. He stared at her, incredulous, wondering why she wasn't flaunting her victory. She stared back at him, her wide and knowing smile unwavering.

Finally, Shikadai grasped Matsuri's warm hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. The kunoichi immediately hugged him, nearly crushing his already out-of-breath windpipes. "Troublesome," he squeaked again, although this time it was with a smile that matched Matsuri's own.

* * *

Matsuri's cooking was bland to the tongue but warming to the heart, Shikadai thought. If he were a prince, he wouldn't have liked to be pampered any other way. After their little spar, Matsuri had rushed home ahead of a bemused Shikadai and told him to meet her there. When he had, he'd found the luxury of a warm bath waiting for him, and Matsuri had taken it upon herself to select a soothing blend of Suna essential oils to add to his bath. The soft, yet spicy, desert fragrances tingle his skin and unknotted his nerves. He'd decided then and there that soaking essential oil baths was his favorite Suna pastime so far. After his bath, he'd descended into Matsuri's kitchen to find it enshrouded with the aroma of food. He'd grinned upon realizing that Matsuri had presented her warm hospitality to him in a way that was utterly impossible to refuse. They now sat at the dinner table with the five or six different dishes Matsuri had miraculously cooked up in record time while Shikadai had been soaking in the bath. Again, Matsuri's cooking was average at best, but it tasted like home, and that was what mattered.

"So how _did_ you do that?" Shikadai asked her, half of his mouth full.

She giggled at him, remarking that he looked cute like that, before explaining, "It wasn't a genjutsu, as you probably noticed. I was spinning my johyo in front of my body so quickly that it became invisible to the naked eye. By infusing a little bit of chakra into the johyo, I can create a shield of invisibility with it."

"But if you were spinning your johyo at that speed, wouldn't I have felt the air currents? Or heard a sound?"

"Aha, but I'm a Wind User too, remember? I may not a genius like Temari, but I can still do the basics with Wind Release, like controlling air currents, pressure, and sound waves!"

"Those are the basics?" Shikadai moaned. He'd a lot longer way to go than he'd thought. His uses for the war fan now seemed like child's play.

"Yep!" Matsuri answered enthusiastically.

"And how about the raining senbon? How'd you do that?"

"That was a summoning, sweetie. You know how your mom puts blood on her fan that summons a really really strong tornado, right?"

"Yeah, Kamatari—"

"Well, I sorta do a similar thing with my johyo, I put a little blood on the handle and when I swing it around, it summons senbon needles. Well…there are a few other things I can summon as well, but we can leave that as a surprise for a future match, no?"

"Mom's Summoning Blade Dance comes with a summoning animal—y'know, that annoying weasel? Doesn't your technique have a summoning animal too?"

"Oh no, it's just senbon, no animal involved. We don't use too many summoning animals here in Suna. I heard in Konoha there are a lot more animal nins because the climate there is more suitable for them to thrive. We don't have enough _humans_ here in Suna as it is! Anyway, a lot of our summons involve the summoning an indefinite amount of inanimate objects or substances—like the Third Kazekage's Iron Sand and the Fourth Kazekage's Gold Dust!"

Shikadai froze for a second. "The Fourth Kazekage…? He used Gold Dust?"

"Yeah…"

Shikadai chewed thoughtfully; there was something about that knowledge about the Fourth Kazekage that was unsettling to him, but he didn't know why. He decided to dismiss it. "You're one hell of a kunoichi, ma'am. I can't believe I'm saying this, but—" he scratched his hair, which was still wet—"I had fun sparring with you. It's not often I find someone who can push my limits—intellectually, I mean. For once I really had no idea what was coming next. It was different for me. I have a friend back at home—Boruto Uzumaki is his name, he's the Hokage's son—and his moves are all terribly predictable. Shadow clones, Rasengan, Rasengan, shadow clones, Rasengan, blah blah blah. The only reason why he's able to beat everybody is because his techniques are just that much stronger. He's a brute, I'm telling you. Such a drag…"

"Ha ha ha, you're so adorable, Shikadai!" Matsuri gushed, pinching his cheeks. "It's such a drag, you say? Temari used to complain that Shikamaru would say that day in and day out! I can see why she fell in looooove, it's the cutest thing in the world…." _Oh great,_ Shikadai thought, _here goes another one comparing me to Dad, AGAIN…_ But then Matsuri continued, "But looks and catchphrases aside, you're definitely more like Temari, feisty little thing! But then again, you've also got a little bit of Lord Kankuro in you, but I think most of all you're like Gaara-sensei."

Shikadai sputtered. "Wh-what? Like Uncle Gaara? How in the world…?"

"I dunno, it's that look in your eyes, I guess, super dedicated and steadfast and determined to prove your worth. I don't know how to describe it, I just _feel_ Gaara-sensei in you. Seriously, sweetie, you remind me of Gaara-sensei when we were kids. There was just something about him…that made me, as his student, want to do my very best, and prove my value to him, and strive to achieve my dreams for him, no matter what."

"Talk about misguided! I'm not anything like that," Shikadai protested. "I'm not half the person Uncle Gaara is…I was—still am—the most undedicated guy in my class, most unmotivated ninja I ever had the misfortune to come across."

Matsuri's eyes softened and she tapped him lightly on the nose. "I think that's what's easiest to believe, but is that really true, darling? Y'know, people can be blind when it comes to seeing themselves, but it's a lot clearer for us watching from the outside. There's a lot in here-" she poked him in the chest—"that I think you haven't discovered yet. It'll take time, but that's what's Gaara-sensei is for."

Shikadai had the feeling they were breaching a personal topic for Matsuri. "Could you…tell me more about your time as Uncle Gaara's student?

"

"Of course, my dear!" Matsuri beamed. Then she sobered, if only just a little. Shikadai listened intently. "Well, first of all, you have to understand that I was an orphan. When I was only a little girl…my parents…were killed right in front of my eyes with really terrible weapons. I don't know if they were shinobi or not, but the fact of the matter was that I became afraid of weapons. Unreasonably so."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am…and of course your fear wasn't unreasonable," Shikadai comforted.

Matsuri smiled at him. "Don't worry about it, darling, it was so long ago. Anyway, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with violence or weapons or shinobi of any kind after that. I was sent to the orphanage after the incident and that was a time when the Fourth Kazekage was still in power. Orphans were considered the most expendable of children, so despite how I felt I had no choice but to become a shinobi." Not for the first time, Shikadai felt a pang of hatred towards the Fourth Kage of Suna. "By the time I came of age, however, the Fourth Kazekage was dead, and Suna practices had loosened up a little bit, but this was still before Gaara-sensei became the Fifth, so I still had to become a shinobi.

"So I enrolled in the Academy, and there were only three sensei for our cohort. And who were they none other than the Three Sand Siblings themselves? Still, I had no desire to become a ninja and I was so sure that I was going to die even before becoming a genin, so I couldn't really feel excited about who our sensei was going to be, I was just so sick to my stomach, you know? And those classmates of mine, they were even worse." Matsuri made a face of disgust. "They acted like they were so brave and they talked about weapons like they were so cool, but underneath all that they were really all just cowards. When it came time to pick one of the Sand Siblings as your sensei, not a single one of them chose Gaara-sensei because they were too scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"Ah, it's something that your uncle will help you understand. Let's just say that all those other students were afraid of their image of Gaara-sensei, not of Gaara-sensei's true person."

"And you chose Uncle Gaara, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, and it was the first time I made a right choice!" Matsuri stated proudly.

"Why weren't you…afraid like the others?" For now, Shikadai was simply going to have to accept that his uncle had been a very scary individual when he was young.

"Because," Matusri explained, "there was something he wanted to say, but the other students were so scared that they didn't give him a chance to finish. Mind you, I was…scared too, but I really wanted to know what he wanted to say."

"Oh?" Shikadai raised an eyebrow. "And did you?"

"Yes I did," Matsuri grinned.

"And what did he say?"

"Now here's the thing," Matsuri winked, "Gaara-sensei may have told me, but I didn't understand what he was saying at first either." Shikadai groaned. "Now wait! I didn't realize it then, but it was because Gaara-sensei doesn't tell you to do anything he can't show you how to do himself. So I didn't understand until he _showed_ me, you see."

"And what did he show you?"

"Gaara-sensei…he showed me why people feel fear…and why it's okay for people to feel fear. The only time fear is bad is when you afraid of actually being afraid…that's why acting all brave and macho is the most cowardly thing, ever. He showed me that he was just like me, he had a lot of things that he was afraid of, too! And Gaara-sensei _still_ does! But Gaara-sensei showed me how to turn that fear into strength…because there is something you wish to protect for everything you fear in the world. To learn to protect doesn't mean to stop fearing, it's means that your fear has become so great that you'll use your greatest power to protect what you hold dear against it.

"Do you think I ever overcame my fear of weapons? Of course not, and I'm proud of it! Why should I not be afraid of something so cruel and vile? But the fact of the matter is, I'm so aware of what weapons can do now that when I see one, I'm so afraid of it that I want to do everything I can to stop it from hurting me and my friends, rather than run away."

Shikadai blinked a few times, processing everything Matsuri had just said. "You have to be really strong to be able to think like that…it's always easier to run away."

"Yes, but it's not better."

"Wow," Shikadai breathed. The ideology was simple and brilliant, and Shikadai shouldn't have been surprised that this was the type of thing Uncle Gaara taught his students. "So the scaredest person in the world is the strongest, eh?"

"Yes, you're right! And Gaara-sensei is just that person!" Matsuri squealed. Shikadai started, not prepared for Matsuri's sudden fangirling session. "There're so many things he's afraid of! And Gaara-sensei will go to the ends of the earth if it means protecting Sunagakure from them! He's just—the best Kazekage ever! Sunagakure is everything to him, there's nothing more important to him than his homeland—oh my goodness—I just _love_ him so much!"

Shikadai froze up—a love confession was _totally_ not what he had signed up for. Women! This was why they were so troublesome! It certainly didn't help that the man Matsuri was pining over was Shikadai's own blood uncle! Boys never randomly professed their love for girls—well, Sarada Uchiha did have hordes of fanboys pining after her back at home, but… _still_ …

"Hey honey, I'm home! Hey, what's that racket? Do we have company?"

Shikadai turned and gulped at the sound of a male voice. Standing at the door was a smiling man with short, dark brown hair and a dark bandana tied over his head. He looked very kind.

Matsuri got up from the dining table and rushed up to the man. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a brief hug before turning to Shikadai. "This is my husband, Ittetsu," she introduced.

Shikadai gagged. "You're married?"

"Yes! If you look past the fact that he's a mediocre little brat, Ittetsu can be quite nice!" Matsuri beamed, not disturbed in the slightest.

"I'm not mediocre!" Ittetsu fumed.

Shikadai stared at them, bemused. Did Ittetsu know that his wife was totally in love with her sensei and Kazekage?

"We were just talking about Gaara-sensei, honey," Matsuri informed her husband.

Shikadai didn't know if he'd expected Ittetsu to express jealousy or nonchalance or what, but he certainly wasn't expecting him to have big red hearts popping out of his eyes. "You were talking about Lord Gaara! Oh my god oh my god how could you leave me out of this conversation Matsuri? Are you so cruel?" Ittetsu turned to Shikadai and began shaking him by the shoulders. "Did you know that Lord Kazekage was the most awesome guy who ever lived? He's so handsome, and smart, and cool, and strong, and…"

Whoa. So it turns out Ittetsu was in love with Gaara too. If not more so than Matsuri. _Only in Suna_ , Shikadai thought with a shake of his head. And a shudder.

Once he was finished ranting about how every positive quality in the world belonged to the oh-so-wonderful Lord Gaara, Ittetsu let go of Shikadai's shoulders and sheepishly scratched the back of his hand. "Sorry about that. I got overexcited. I just can't help myself, Lord Gaara's so cool…" he caught himself this time. "I'm Ittetsu, by the way."

"You dimwit, I already told him who you were!" Matsuri slapped Ittetsu.

"Sorry, honey—ah! Please don't hit me!"

Well well well, looked like Suna women really liked whipping their husbands into shape. Vaguely, Shikadai wondered what his parents were doing now.

 _Having rough and dirty sex_ , he thought bluntly. It was true.

"This darling here just had a spar with me and I brought him home for dinner—sweetie—" Matsuri called to Shikadai, catching his attention once again. "Why don't you tell Ittetsu here who you are?"

 _Why can't you just save me the trouble_ , Shikadai wondered, knowing how Ittetsu was probably going to react. "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Shikadai Nara."

"Well hello Shikadai, nice to meet you too—wait. Shikadai? Nara, you said? You mean like the Nara clan of Konoha?"

Shikadai nodded, and Matsuri nodded fervently and enthusiastically along with him.

"You wouldn't happen to know…" Ittetsu tried to remember a name. "Shika—I think it was Shika _maru_ , Nara, would you?"

"Well he is from my clan, so we may have met once or twice," Shikadai chuckled. Ittetsu's eyes lit up. "Yeah, he's my dad."

Ittetsu's jaw dropped. "He's your dad?" he squawked. "Whoa whoa whoa, don't you know who that man is married to?!"

"Of course he knows, it's his _dad_!" Matsuri chastised.

"Yes I do, I know that woman as Troublesome Bitch No. 1. You may know her as Temari of the Sand."

Ittetsu's jaw hit the ground. "Temari of the Sand?" he squeaked. "But that's—that's—that's—"

"Speak coherently!" Matsuri scolded.

"That's Lord Gaara's sister! Wait, don't tell me she's your MOTHER?"

"Unfortunately so," Shikadai replied.

"YOU'RE LORD GAARA'S NEPHEW!"

 _I knew it_ , Shikadai thought.

The next ten minutes need not be described because they involved much hyperventilation on Ittetsu's part and not much more. When he had finally calmed down, Ittetsu stuck his hand out for Shikadai to shake, and once again repeated, "Nice to meet you!"

"Pleasure—" Shikadai began, taking Ittetsu's hand in his own—only to recoil slightly in surprise when his fingers wrapped around something hard and clearly not made of flesh.

Shikadai regretted his reaction but couldn't take it back—fortunately, Ittetsu did not seem in the least bit offended and rolled up his sleeve to show Shikadai the wooden and metal prosthetic contraption that was his arm. He saved Shikadai the discomfort of asking by explaining himself. "I lost my arm in the Fourth Great Shinobi War. Afterwards, Lord Kankuro and the Puppet Corps launched a project to create prosthetic puppet limbs for any shinobi who needed them! And not just for Sunagakure citizens, either—for people all over the world! I owe your uncle my life and career!"

Shikadai swelled with pride for his puppeteer uncle. The face-painted man was often overshadowed by his crimson-haired brother, but it didn't take much for Shikadai to remember what a great man Uncle Kankuro was of his own right.

To say that Shikadai had fun with the odd couple would be an understatement. He felt _happy_ —and he wondered if he couldn't have Matsuri and Ittetsu as a second set of parents when he was away from Konoha and Shikamaru and Temari.

He'd already been there in their home for a couple hours, and even though he didn't really want to leave the warmth of their presence, he decided he had to leave.

However, something was still troubling him in the back of his mind.

 _"_ _How dare you—undermine my—shinobi status—question my loyalty—to the Kazekage!"_ Ryomen had shrieked. They were half-mad words of a man who loved Sunagakure and hated Uncle Gaara.

"One last question, though," Shikadai told Matsuri, his expression saying that whatever it was, it was serious.

"Anything, sweetie," Matsuri assured him gently.

"Which are you? Are you loyal to Sunagakure? Or are you loyal to Uncle Gaara?"

Matsuri didn't even bat an eye. "Sweetie, your uncle and Sunagakure are one and the same. They exist for the sole purpose of each other."

That was all Shikadai needed to hear. "Thank you so much—for everything, really. I really enjoyed this, let's do it again sometime."

"Of course! You know what, you should come visit us at least once a week! You said you'd be here for a year, right? That way we'd get to see each other again 52 times!" Matsuri proposed.

"Yeah! And next time maybe you could meet our daughter!" Ittetsu excitedly suggested.

"Daughter? You have a kid?"

"Oh yes! Didn't we mention her? Oh no we didn't, how silly of us, hahaha!" Ittetsu reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. "She's at the Academy right now! This is her right here!"

Shikadai looked at the portrait of a girl with shoulder-length, spiky, flaming red hair and wide, amber eyes full of vitality. "Umm…she doesn't really look like…either of you."

"I know right!" Ittetsu exclaimed. "She was an orphan so we adopted her when she was still a baby! We even named her after a war heroine!"

"That's…very noble of you," Shikadai complimented. "I…don't know anyone at home who's an orphan," he admitted. It seemed like he'd only gotten to know the brighter side of the world back in Konoha. "Back at home, though, a lot of people aren't so accepting of orphans…we highly value clan bloodlines and lineage, so parentless children are sometimes considered less valuable."

Matsuri gasped. "How terrible!"

Shikadai smiled bitterly. "I don't know how it is here in Suna, but I'm so happy you're the type who's accepting, not the arrogant, stuck-up type."

"Oh, there are ignorant people everywhere," Matsuri said, "but here in Suna we're generally quite accepting of everybody. Are shinobi aren't so centered around clans as they are their village, since it takes all of our effort together to survive in this desert. Doesn't matter if you're an ANBU or an orphan—so long as you're a person. It didn't used to be like this, I think we used to be worse than Konoha, but…you know, Gaara-sensei changed things for the better."

"Uncle Gaara sure has a powerful influence around here," Shikadai chuckled. "But seriously, it kind of surprises me. Sunagakure always seemed so centered around lineage and hierarchy. I mean, just look at the way everybody treats me, just because I'm the Kazekage's nephew! Boruto doesn't even get this treatment in Konoha."

"In some ways, we are," Matsuri said, "but what we feel for you is love, Shikadai! Gaara-sensei taught us that for the simple act of being born any human being deserves to be loved and acknowledged, especially since birth is the one event in a person's life that they can't control. So we love you for existing, and for sharing the same earth and the same sand as the rest of us. Of course, your being Gaara-sensei's nephew just makes us love you more, we can't help it!

"But, while every person deserves love, respect is an entirely different matter! Respect is something every shinobi has to earn for himself, whether he's an orphan or even if he's the Kazekage's nephew, _Lord_ Shikadai," Matsuri teased, ruffling the boy's hair. "We love everyone for being human, raw and basic, but if you want respect you're going to have to fight to be more than that."

"Oh, I see how it is," Shikadai teased back. "You love me to pieces but after spending a couple hours with me today you've probably lost all respect for me, haven't you?"

"Silly thing! You can't lose respect for a person if you haven't given it to them yet! Besides, meeting you has just made me respect you so much more!"

"Really?" Shikadai asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Matsuri replied meaningfully. She pulled Shikadai into a hug. "And I mean it with all my heart when I say that I think you're going to be a _great_ shinobi."

"Thanks," Shikadai breathed, truly grateful. He detached himself from Matsuri's embrace and gave her a lopsided grin. "I learned a lot from you today."

"From me?" This time, it was Matsuri who seemed surprised. "I didn't do anything!"

"Yes you did," Shikadai smiled. "You're the perfect example of a shinobi who's seen so much but who can still smile. The way you smile—I can tell it's genuine. And it kinda sorta makes other people want to smile too." Shikadai smirked at her. "Is that something Uncle Gaara taught you as well?"

"Yes, of course it is!" Funny that Matsuri had learned to smile from a man who never did. "Gaara-sensei showed me that there are things in the world worth smiling for. I love life, I love Sunagakure, I love my friends, and I have a purpose that I'm proud of. I can't do anything but smile!...Thank you, sweetheart, that's the most beautiful compliment anyone could have given me."

"You're welcome…Auntie."

By the time Shikadai had truly left Matsuri's front step, the sound of Matsuri's squealing had been permanently imprinted into his long-term memory.

He started home with a bounce on his step, feeling incredibly light and refreshed for some reason. _Perhaps it was because of the bath. I'll have to ask Aunt Matsuri for some of those oils next time_. A passerby walked past him and Shikadai found himself smiling at him. The Suna citizen's face seemed to brighten and a warm smile and wave was returned.

 _Clap. Clap. Clap._

Huh?

Shikadai looked around for the source of the noise and jumped in shock when the voice permeated through his skull from inside his head. _Look at the great Lord Shikadai Nara,_ it mocked _. Next time someone tries to kill you you'll just smile them to death, won't you?_

 _L-leave me alone_ , Shikadai answered.

 _Just look at how miserably you lost to that silly kunoichi. Weak! Weak! Next time, there might not be a next time_ , the voice jabbed.

 _She said that people deserve love for being human, but she doesn't know your dirty little secret, does she? Monsters…weren't born to be loved. And they fight for hatred and fear, not respect,_ the voice continued. _What do you think you're doing here, in Sunagakure, anyway? Matsuri said herself that Sunagakure was Uncle Gaara's everything. What good will a demon do for this village?_ The voice chuckled darkly. _She said she wanted to see you 52 more times, eh? Well, by the 51_ _st_ _time we'll make sure to have knocked that lovely smile off her face, and by the 52_ _nd_ _time she'll be dead…!_

Shikadai shivered but gritted his teeth. _There are things worth smiling for in this world_ , he remembered. He'd promised his mother he'd accept himself for who—or what—he was, but just this time, just today…he'd forget that he wasn't human and smile for the world.

With this in mind, he firmly blocked out the voice from his head and walked home, smiling all the way.

There was something about the way the sand swirled around his feet when he trudged through the Kazekage compound that told him that neither of his uncles were home at the moment. But suddenly, he wondered, if anyone else _was_ home.

He shuddered, hesitating at the house's front door and not sure if he wanted to enter a potentially haunted home without the protection of either of his uncles.

 _Being scared would make things worse_ , Shikadai told himself firmly. _Besides, this is_ my _house. I freaking live here_.

Matsuri's smile had made Shikadai want to smile, and he decided that if he was going to run into any spirits he might as well smile in hopes that they would smile back at him. Happy spirits would be better than unhappy ones. A little self-consciously, he tugged the corners of his lips upward and strode into his home. "Hey, I'm home!" he announced to no one and everyone.

Sure enough, the house was deserted, and for some reason, it felt that much bigger. The silence seemed to egg him on to continue, if only so that such a dead sound wouldn't permeate so loudly through the house. "Anyway, if anybody's listening, I don't know how well you know me yet, I've only been here for a week. My name's Shikadai Nara, in case you didn't know." Shikadai found himself unable to stand still and started walking down the Kazekage Compound's spiraling corridor. "I'm gonna be living here with my uncles for the next year. You probably know my uncles better than me. Uncle Gaara is the Kazekage. He's training me now."

He was starting to feel a little insane, but since he'd started he might as well continue. "I had a good day today. It was my one day off from Uncle Gaara, so I met with his student Matsuri. I really like her; I'm glad I have friends here in Sunagakure. You know, I forgot to ask Auntie what her daughter's name is. She said they named her after a war heroine. Wonder who. I don't really know any Sunagakure war heroes, though, so it doesn't really matter to me." Shikadai shrugged and stopped walking. He looked up to see himself facing a door. He realized that he'd walked into the underground section of the house—he hadn't yet ventured here before. Shikadai's own room was situated several stories above ground, so he'd never had the need to come to this part of the house.

The door looked old and worn. Shrugging once more, Shikadai turned his back to the door and said, "Well, that's really all. See ya around, I guess. Hope you have a good day too."

He hadn't so much as taken one step when he felt something touching his hair.

Shikadai's entire body froze and his smile dissolved from his face. He waited for a few seconds and counted to three, and when he opened his eyes again, the definite feeling of a gentle hand patting his head was there.

After standing there motionlessly and shell-shocked for several more moments, Shikadai abruptly spun around and faced the door once again. The feeling on his hair vanished. His heart pounded in his chest when he noticed that the door's handle was encrusted with an ornate gold, much like the touches of gold decoration in his own room.

Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were slowly, slowly, gravitating towards the shining handle, almost as if pulled in by an invisible magnetic force.

Then his fingertips brushed the gold, and his veins were set on fire.

The burst of energy that engulfed his body when he touched the gold was indescribable, and Shikadai retracted his hand as if it had been burned. All thoughts about smiling and making the spirits happy had fled from his brain, and without another lingering glance on the door he turned and ran through the corridor, not stopping until he was safely locked inside his own room. It was the one place that was definitely his in the house and definitely safe, for even the ghosts that inhabited this house respected the boundaries of the sand.

Panting, he slid down to the floor, his teal eyes wide and shocked. _What the hell was that?_

* * *

It was past midnight when Uncle Gaara arrived home. Shikadai stirred when he felt the sand warming up around him, and he knew that it was welcoming the crimson-haired Kazekage back home. Shuffling, he got up and out of his bed. He was already wearing his loose pajamas, but decided to wrap a scarf around his shoulders before meeting his uncle. He ventured back out into the corridor, no longer feeling terrified about what lay in its wake now that his uncle was with him. Uncle Gaara would protect him…right?

He stepped into the living room, rubbing the last bit of tiredness out of his eyes, and found his uncle sitting at the table facing away from him. The man did not appear to be doing anything, just sitting there, so still he might as well have been dead.

"Hey," Shikadai greeted softly. There was no response.

The boy sighed and approached his uncle. He pulled out a chair and sat across from him. He studied his uncle's face. The sea foam eyes were open and staring ahead, but not at him. The flawless skin was glisteningly pale. His face looked distant, and might as well have been carved from stone.

"Hey," Shikadai tried again. "How was your day?"

Gaara did not move.

"I met Matsuri today. That student of yours, she's something else. We had a spar and she totally kicked my ass. She had a lot of good things to say about you…"

Trying not to feel discouraged by his uncle's lack of responsiveness, Shikadai tried to continue again, "I asked her about—"

Gaara completely cut him off and spoke as if he hadn't heard Shikadai speak in the first place at all. "Why did you come to Sunagakure?"

"Wh—huh?" The change in subject had been too abrupt for Shikadai to process just yet.

"Why did you come to Sunagakure?" Gaara asked again with the same bland tone.

"Wh—why?" Shikadai frowned. "Well, because you asked me too—"

"It was a suggestion. You were the one who brought yourself here. So," Gaara's eyes finally slid to look at him. "Why are you here?"

The way Uncle Gaara was saying it suddenly made Shikadai feel incredibly vulnerable and unwelcome. _Why_ am _I here_? he wondered to himself. "Be-because…" he trailed off. Because monsters weren't welcome in Konohagakure? But what made him think that they'd be welcome in Suna?

Gaara decided to take a different approach. "Why did you become a shinobi?"

"I—I dunno, there never really were any other options, everyone was doing it."

"So you did it because everyone else was doing it? Well, if everyone else made it their daily routine to kill, would you too be doing it?"

"As shinobi, it's already a daily routine for us to kill," Shikadai answered bitterly.

"Then what is your purpose as a shinobi?"

"Well—well—" Shikadai struggled.

"It's a very simple question with a very simple answer," Uncle Gaara told him. "There are really only two basic purposes for which shinobi live. Both of them involved the liberation of pain and death. Some shinobi liberate their friends and comrades from pain and death by giving their all to prevent those misfortunes from befalling them. Others…exist for the sole purpose of liberating pain and death by inflicting it upon others. Which are you?"

Shikadai stared at his uncle, shocked. He might as well have been asked if he preferred red or blue.

Sensing Shikadai's surprise, Gaara continued, "If I am to teach you, I must know this, so that I may instruct you accordingly."

"You mean I have a choice?" Shikadai raised his eyebrow. "So what does that mean? Which one are you?"

"I am…familiar with both purposes."

"Don't they contradict each other?"

"Contradiction is a subjective matter."

Months ago—hell, just weeks ago, actually, Shikadai would not have hesitated to answer that the first choice was his purpose as a shinobi. But all of sudden, here and now, under his uncle's hard scrutiny, he didn't know what he really existed for anymore.

"I—I don't know…" he answered truthfully.

Gaara closed his eyes, hiding the sea-foam green behind a curtain of darkened lids. "Pity," he said. "It would not have mattered which one had chosen…but a shinobi without a purpose…is as good as dead."

Something snapped inside Shikadai when he heard Uncle Gaara say these words. He shot up out of his chair, toppling it in the process. Suddenly on the verge of hysteria, he screamed, against his better judgment, at his uncle, "What are you saying? That you want me _dead_?"

"I didn't say that," Gaara replied, and Shikadai felt relief for a fraction of a second until Gaara continued, "but what I want doesn't matter."

"So you're saying that I'm basically worthless? Is that what you're saying?"

Gaara simply stared straight into his teal eyes, stripping Shikadai of the last of his strength with his gaze. "For the sake of Sunagakure I must assess the value of my shinobi."

Shikadai couldn't believe what he was hearing. He closed his eyes and shook his head several times, trying to see if he could wake up and remove himself from that cold, cold stare of the Kazekage's. But he opened his eyes, and the sea-foam green eyes were still there, unchanged.

"ARGH!" Shikadai yelled, his hands balled into fists. Barely aware of what he was doing, he grabbed his golden hourglass from his pouch and hurtled it at his uncle. It was intercepted inches away from the Kazekage's face by a wall of sand. Shikadai watched the glass shatter into a million pieces and felt his heart break along with it.

Turning, he tried to run—away from the broken shards, away from the spilled Gold Dust, away from the crimson and sea-foam green that was his uncle—but something grabbed onto his ankle and he tumbled onto the ground. He turned to see Uncle Gaara standing over him, a stream of sand from his gourd wrapped firmly around Shikadai's leg. He opened his mouth to yell, but a nauseating feeling suddenly came crashing down upon him and he realized too late that he was being teleported somewhere in a tornado of sand.

When the world stopped spinning, he opened his eyes again and had to blink several times to adjust his vision to the sudden darkness. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He was outdoors, but there wasn't a single light in sight. In fact, there wasn't anything in sight but…sand. Vast, endless stretches that continued till the end of time. Sunagakure was nowhere in sight.

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. There, against the full moon and standing on a platform of floating sand, was the Kazekage, his dark red robes billowing around his unmoving form. His silhouette was outlined sharply against the white glow of the moon, and Shikadai could just barely make out the blood-colored vermilion of Gaara's hair, but the two green orbs seemed one hundred times brighter in this setting.

Uncle Gaara looked anything but human.

A breeze bristled by and Shikadai shivered, suddenly remembering that desert nights were cold. "Wh-where a-are we?" he asked with chattering teeth.

In this lighting, Shikadai couldn't see his mouth move but the two green eyes still glowed at him unwaveringly. A smooth yet coarse voice answered into the night air, "Twenty-four hours without food or water is not enough to kill you. But what the desert lacks in nourishments, it makes up for in perils. Twenty-four hours is enough to live or die."

The Kazekage's eerie eyes closed and he turned around so that Shikadai could no longer see his face. "This is a test. Not all of tests are meant to be passed." Gaara raised both of his arms up and seem to call the sand to him. It began swirling around his flowing robes violently. The mini-sandstorm that was Gaara almost completely blocked out Shikadai's view of the moon in the sky.

The wind and sand whispered secrets all around them, and amidst the murmurs came Gaara's voice, "I'll see you on the other side."

"W-wait-!" Shikadai called.

Then the Uncle Gaara was gone, and Shikadai had to shield himself from the sudden brightness of the moon's white rays piercing into his eyes.

And he was alone.


	13. Chapter 12: The Real Monster

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hands-down the most psychologically disturbing chapter I've written so far. Like, I might even have to rate some parts of it M (let me know right away if you think I need to, don't wanna be banned from fanfiction)…It's my favorite chapter (tells you a lot about me, doesn't it?) Be warned…**

Chapter 12—The Real Monster

Twenty-four hours.

He had twenty-four hours to pass or fail. Twenty-four hours to prove his worth. Twenty-four hours to live or die.

He used the first ten seconds to scream the anguish and despair of his soul into the frigid desert night. The piercing sound of his own voice penetrated his own consciousness, but he couldn't be sure if it was real or not, because there were no other ears to hear his outcry. The round moon sat forlornly and unaffected in the sky.

After thirty minutes and seventeen seconds and much frantic scrambling, he realized that he was truly alone. He ran and ran and ran and ran under the guidance of the directionless moon, stumbling upon dune after dune of shifting sand that always seemed to carry him back to the same place and no closer to Sunagakure than he had ever been.

After one hour, fifty-three minutes and thirty-nine seconds, he decided to follow the moon. The eerie white orb that was so close and yet so far away, forever in view and eternally out of reach. It was the source of his wakefulness, his hope and his crushed dreams, his lucidity and his insanity, the source of his answers that never answered him. He called to it and swam in the seas of sand basked in moonlight.

After three hours, eight minutes and twenty-two seconds, the ghostly white sand beneath his fingers slipped away to give way to a glowing orange. His energy and zeal slipped away with it. The moon was finally abandoning him over the flat, hopeless horizon, and the unfamiliar sun promised pain even through its first rays.

After six hours, thirty-five minutes and one second, his raw throat stopped screaming because of pain and thirst. He had tears in his eyes, because it felt as if coarse sand had engraved bloody scars of agony in his vocal cords. The anguish in his mind hollered louder.

After eight hours, fifty-nine minutes and forty-five seconds, he was betrayed by his empty stomach as he felt it crush itself from the inside. The acidic bile that rose from inside him stung his throat and he fled, in a frenzy, the wretched spot on which he'd stained the sand.

After ten hours, nine minutes and thirteen seconds, he clawed at his eyes as the unobstructed desert attempted to blind him. He bowed his head and debased his quivering body to the unforgiving sun that sat high in its throne in its endless kingdom in the sky. Its power spilled into the glaring, bright yellow sand and attempted to drown him, trap him, in a bright prison where even his closed eyelids couldn't protect him from the cruel light. The sun was uncompassionate, and not even for a second would it relent in meting out his punishment.

After eleven hours, forty-nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds, he realized that he was not alone, after all. The angry sun continued to flog him with its rays, the heat continued to drown him without relief, the stinging sand attempted to devour his skin, and the wind clawed at his body and at his mind, willing him to a place he didn't want to go. He was not alone, but he was lonely. Isolated. Not alone.

After fourteen hours, sixteen minutes and twelve seconds, he realized that the desert was a monster. Its sole purpose of existence was the promise of demise and the "liberation of pain and death". Those who met the desert either left it, scarred or dead, or never did. It discriminated no one, for it hated all. Killing was not enough for it. It peeled off a person's layers, one by one, until the person's body was scattered across the desert sandscape and his soul ironically caged by the sands that always shifted. He felt his own body manifest itself in the desperate sands that devoured his soul.

After fifteen hours, thirty-three minutes and eighteen seconds, the desert finished chewing him and now prepared to swallow him in its burning, blinding, brightness. He shivered, a ghastly creature in the sand, quaking from the heat that consumed the outside of him and the cold that consumed the inside of him. He wanted to want to fight unconsciousness, but the sun had sucked him dry of water and spirit. He resigned himself to becoming an empty shell of sand, floating in the dry sea.

The insane didn't sleep, and the desert's wretched prisoner was now condemned to the torture of never sleeping. His dull teal eyes had been removed of everything but a faint memory of their color. Nothing changed when he closed his eyes, because vision, too, had been removed from them a long time ago.

The desert had done nothing but lock him in a prison inside himself. Now that that was done, the desert could begin. The prelude was complete, and now the living or dying would commence. That was up to Shikadai, of course, because the desert was a monster and would do nothing but kill.

* * *

"Why you…is this really the pathetic excuse of a son Temari raised? Is this really the state of the Kazekage Clan nowadays…? Goddamn…"

Black eyelids flew open, teal eyes leaving the bright, sunny nightmare in which they had been trapped and confronted with the sight of a dark, starry sky. The boy no longer had any concept of time.

In fact, he no longer had any concept of anything. He felt as if he had been jarred awake after ten lifetimes, and now was commencing his eleventh with no trace of memory the previous ten except for the emotional exhaustion and physical pain.

"Get up, you foolish child! At a time like this…"

That male voice. That voice was so terribly familiar, he thought. "Who are you?" he croaked, wincing as he used his raw voice. "Who am I?" he added as afterthought.

He listened as the voice cursed. "I said, get up, you fool! Aren't you even in the least bit concerned about what's happening to you?"

"What's happening to me…" he muttered tiredly, but shifted himself nonetheless to try to get up.

The boy froze. He knew he was lying in the sand, but the small movement of his body suddenly made him hypersensitive. He peeled himself up off the ground, frowning at the way his clothes clung to him. It was too dry for him to be sweating, so…

 _Squelch_

He heard the ground beneath him and it felt inexplicably warm. Night had already fallen, so what…?

He used one of his hands to support himself and immediately tensed up when it came in contact with something sticky. Suddenly anxious, he quickly got up off the ground and winced as he heard more squelching sounds beneath him. Cold sweat beaded on his temple as he stood there, facing the cold desert night.

Then he turned around to look.

There, in the sand, was a deep imprint where he had been lying. It looked like a snow angel, but in sand.

And that sand angel was filled to the brim with blood.

"Ahhh—oh my god." He started hyperventilating. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my—"

In his panic, he brought his hands up to his head and harshly tugged at his hair, remembering too late the sticky substance he'd felt when he'd hoisted himself up. He'd smothered blood all over his hair.

He started down at his hands, mouth open with terror. Tainted hands, they were, that marred and dirtied everything they touched, including himself.

"Ahh-!" he screamed again, the rawness of his throat the least of his concerns now. "Oh my god, oh god, god-!"

"Shut up and make yourself useful!" the voice reprimanded sternly.

The boy blinked once or twice, momentarily distracted as a name for the voice surfaced in his mind. "…Rasa?"

"Hmph."

He remembered Rasa. He was mean. He never had anything nice to say to him and was always scolding and expressing disbelief at his incompetence, but there was always an underlying current of care and concern under that hard tone.

But the boy didn't care about hidden care or concern or worry. Rasa's meanness made him want to cry, made him feel pathetic. "K-k-k-k-ka…K-karu—"

"Speak clearly, boy!"

"K-k-karu…K-Karura."

"Karura?" Rasa sounded surprised for several moments. "Hn. She's not here." The stern, unmovable tone was back.

But the boy didn't care. He wanted Karura. He wanted her kindness, her assurance. "Karura…" he continued to implore.

" _I said she's not here_! You have to make yourself worthy if you want her presence! Now get out of here, start moving!" Rasa screamed.

"You're scary," the boy whispered, but he had no desire to stay near his bloodstained silhouette in the sand, either. He obeyed Rasa and started running, the sound of the mean man's voice acting as guidance.

He ran and ran, eyes screwed shut because he was in the middle of nowhere in the flat desert and there was no need to watch out for obstacles. Or rather, they entire desert was one, huge, impossible obstacle.

 _Huff, huff_. With eyes still squeezed shut, the boy leaned on his knees, body bent and panting harshly. "Did I run…far enough…away…Rasa…?" he asked, breathing heavily.

He allowed his eyes to open, only to jump in fear when he saw vermilion once again.

His voice caught in his throat as he looked at the bloody trail. His footprints shouldn't have left such clear tracks in the dry, shifting sand, but on the path behind him on which he'd just run were very clear impressions of his sandals. And each one of them was filled with sticky, red blood.

He stared back down at his own two feet and found them standing in two pools of crimson, the vile liquid oozing around the edges.

In horrified curiosity, he lifted one foot and set it down on the dry, unmarred sand in front of him. When he lifted his foot once again, the sand was no longer unmarred.

He twisted his ankle upwards to get a good look at the soles of his sandals. To his surprise, they were completely clean and dry, if not for a few grains of sand stuck between the crevices. Confused, he ran a finger along the bottom of his shoe, only to have it return wet and dripping.

He gagged at the blood on his fingers and quickly leaned down to rake his hands in the sand to get the warm stickiness off. To his horror, his hands left bloody rivers of crimson in their wake in the sand.

He realized what was happening. Everything he touched was turning into blood.

"Rasa!" he cried. The man was mean, and the boy would rather have Karura for comfort, but he was scared out of his mind and he needed company. Some other company than the warm, deadly elixir of life that was not his own but oozing out of his body and touch nonetheless.

He was answered by the wind's silent rustling.

"Rasa? Rasa!" No reply. The boy started to sob. He wanted to escape—to flee from the source of all this blood. But _he_ was the source of the blood—anything he touched turned to the red essence. Yeah, he wanted to run away from himself. The hot tears that slid down his cheeks made him shudder even more, because they felt too much like blood. And he couldn't wipe his tears away, either, not with his tainted hands. He couldn't escape but he started to run anyway, his frenetic fleeing turning into staggering as he continued to wail and run about in his shortness of breath.

He wasn't running in any direction, because direction didn't exist in the desert. The glowing moon sat in the lonely sky over the lonely sky, like a silent, watchful eye observing his every move.

He was about ready to collapse when he stopped again, breathing heavily into the frigid night air. He couldn't keep his eyes closed forever, and he was too tired to keep them closed. So he opened them.

To his pleasant surprise, his footsteps were no longer laced with blood. With a leaping heart, he looked down at his two palms—clean and dry. But were they really, or was this a deception…?

He didn't have time to ponder further. From somewhere behind him, he heard the voice of a young girl. "Hey Shikadai!" she called.

 _Shikadai…?_ the boy thought. _I've heard this name before…I'm sure I know this person…somewhere…_

"C'mon, Shikadai, let's go play." This time, it was the voice of a timid young boy.

 _Shikadai…Shikadai…Shikadai…_ his brain scrambled to connect that name with a face, an identity.

The boy jolted with sudden realization when he made the connection. Shikadai! That was his name, wasn't it! _I'm Shikadai! Someone is calling to me!_

"C'mon, lazy butt!" It was the girl again. "We don't have all day you know."

He opened his mouth to respond, but before any sound came out, another voice beat him. "Yeah, yeah, coming, coming," said yet another young male voice, dripping with sarcasm and exasperation. "Sheesh, you two. Troublesome."

He frowned. The boy and girl _had_ been calling to _him_ , right? So why had someone else answered? And why was that someone else's voice so familiar?

He pried at his brain. That lazy tone, that annoyed flair…the voice's evident youth. The speaker couldn't have been more than five or six. Shikadai realized, with a jolt as recognized where he'd heard those voices before, that he had just heard a conversation between his younger self and a younger Chouchou and Inojin.

He frowned, wondering why the hell he would be hearing a conversation from his younger days at this place of all times. He'd heard them speaking from somewhere behind him, so he turned around to look. And he saw—

 _Konohagakure?!_

He was just outside the village gates, grand and tall, the triangular-and-swirly symbol of the Leaf emblazoned proudly on the façade. It was a perfect, immaculate picture of his home village—

And everything was wrong.

For one, the Konohagakure sky was never cloudless. The sky behind the sprawling city was now stark and bare, making the pale city a shock against its uniformly dark backdrop.

Secondly, Konohagakure was a very colorful city. Mismatched, if not random, colors emerged from the different and altogether varying buildings. But _this_ Konohagakure had only one color. It was the color of sand.

Thirdly, Konohagakure was never silent. There was always a bustling body or two or hundred—especially at the village entrance, where he was now. But _this_ Konohagakure was bustling with the noise of silence. The lack of movement, of activity, of humanity—made this place as foreign to Shikadai as Amegakure, even if he did recognize the village walls and symbol.

Feeling apprehensive, he took tentative steps forward toward the gates of Konohagakure. He peered inside. Everything was as it should be—and as it shouldn't be, for eerily deathly silence stagnated in the air. Kotetsu and Izumo's normal place was empty.

He turned his head several inches to the left, and was suddenly bombarded by a stench so strong that he doubled over and retreated several steps backward. Clasping his hand over his nose, he looked back into the empty village of Konoha, much more apprehensively this time, because that smell had scared him. It had smelled like—

 _Death_.

The procession in his chest was speeding up, and he felt the _thump thump thump_ of his heart hard against his ribcage. Nevertheless, he got up, and suddenly felt a magnetic pull on his body towards those pale, eerie village gates once more, the stench of death no less prominent. He looked above the "village" and saw the moon hanging in the sky, a cursed orb drawing him in with its power, coaxing him against his will.

He dragged his feet along the sand, not really wanting to go into "Konoha" but feeling like he had to. He wrapped his arms around himself and whimpered. He hesitantly looked up to the moon and saw it burning brighter than ever. "Stop…stop…" he pleaded to it. "I…don't want to go in there. I don't want to die…"

"Hmph."

He stiffened. The sound of yet another voice was enough for him to overcome the moon's pull—if only just momentarily.

"I'm not going to kill you." In an undertone was added the word, " _yet_."

This new voice…it wasn't just a voice; it came with a presence. Shikadai knew that once he turned around, he would find out who it belonged to, because he could feel someone standing behind him. It was a voice laced with lethality, and although it had been used to assure Shikadai that it would not kill him, it made Shikadai more frightened than the prospect of death. Low and gravelly...he'd heard this voice before, too. It was too familiar to him for comfort, yet so foreign to him as to wipe any inkling of its origin from his mind.

Shikadai commanded his feet to move, and with stiff, jerky movements, he turned his entire body around.

The white moon basked the pale figure before him in an ethereal light, and Shikadai couldn't help but gasp when he saw it.

Sparkling, unmarred, untouched alabaster skin. Hair the stark color of blood rustling in the wind. Bangs parted sharply at the left side of the forehead. A firm mouth drawn in a taut line. A dark getup furnished with flowing sashes. Tightly folded crossed arms. A bold, shocking crimson 愛. Tanuki-like rings surrounding sea-foam green eyes.

It was a boy. He looked no older than twelve—he was most likely no older than Shikadai himself. But the boy was much thinner and much shorter. The oversized gourd on his back was bigger than its carrier.

Shikadai remembered that Uncle Gaara's eyes had seen all the darkness in the world. Now Shikadai knew from where Uncle Gaara had seen it: in his own eyes, because the pale aquamarine eyes of the boy before him held nothing but darkness and evil.

Shikadai had always thought of human beings as sources of warmth. Surely, then, this creature before him was not human, for just looking at him sent frigid chills through Shikadai's veins.

No wonder Shikadai had heard this voice before. It was his uncle's—but it wasn't really, was it? This was a twelve-year-old Gaara, and at this point, Gaara wasn't his uncle yet. He'd but spoken a few words—but each word was a whispered curse of a demon, heavy with the weight of pain and insanity.

For a moment, Shikadai looked at the familiar shade of hair and eyes, and thought of nothing but one word: _monster_.

But after that initial moment, memories of his uncle came flooding back to him. The older version of this boy that he'd grown up with. The respected Kazekage whom he loved and admired. The beloved uncle who'd betrayed him and left him to die stranded in the middle of the desert.

He shivered and wondered how in the world the two could have possibly ever been the same person, and which version of his uncle was worse.

He looked back at the boy in front of him, and although he knew his name, Shikadai realized he didn't really know who this child was at all.

 _Yes you do_ , Shikadai reminded himself, unbidden and to his own dismay. _This is the demon Ryomen told you about. The one created by the Fourth Kazekage. The one that plagued Sunagakure's days and nights. You wondered about it and you've met it at last._

The name Ryomen was still unwelcome in his head, and even though the dead man's words were being proved true right before Shikadai's eyes—this boy was indeed a monster—Shikadai couldn't help but reject them. _I don't know anything about him yet, so I shouldn't judge. I should find out,_ he resolved to himself firmly. _And no way in hell is he an_ it _. He's just like me. A monster._

With this in mind, he met the crimson-haired boy's eyes confidently. Shikadai realized that this gourd-wielding child was simply a more seasoned monster than he was, for he could tell he'd already let go of all human attachments. But on the basic levels, they were the same. Fear still thrummed steadily through Shikadai's veins, but he allowed the thick barrier between himself and the boy to drop. "What's your name?" he asked lowly, even though he knew the answer, but waiting with heavy anticipation for the answer all the same.

The redheaded boy was silent for a long time. He moved his head a nearly undetectable millimeter, piercing through the teal of Shikadai's eyes as if he knew that Shikadai knew his name but was asking anyway. Then and now, it seemed, whether young or adolescent or adult…those sea-foam green eyes always knew everything.

"Sabaku no Gaara," the boy answered nonetheless. Shikadai shivered at the thrill of hearing that silkily coarse voice once again—but he was slowly leaving the throes of fear. The fact that Gaara had already assured he wouldn't kill him—and the fact that they were now engaging in conversation, tense as it was, was helping Shikadai relate to him more and more. Others might, but he was coming to realize that he had nothing to fear against this Sabaku no Gaara. For now, anyway.

"Gaara," Shikadai greeted, testing the name out on his tongue. It did not feel strange to be addressing his uncle by name alone, without "Uncle" attached to the front of it, because _this_ Gaara was  not _Uncle_ Gaara. To keep his mind from bursting from over-confusion, he classified them as two different beings. Besides, this Gaara was too young to be anybody's uncle. He was probably younger than Shikadai was right now. "I'm Shikadai," he introduced himself.

"I know," Gaara quickly growled in return.

Shikadai hesitantly raised an eyebrow. "How?"

If possible, the sea-foam green eyes blazed with an even greater intensity, leaving Shikadai to wonder how such a cool color could burn like the sun. They never left Shikadai's teal ones as the tight mouth opened and replied, "We are the same."

Shikadai felt all the fear he felt for Gaara drain out of him to be replaced by wariness. Gaara had acknowledged himself that they were the same—both of them wretched creatures. Those who are the same should have nothing to fear of each other. "Is that why you're not going to kill me?"

Gaara's eyes hardened. "You're still useful to me yet."

"…Am I…?" Shikadai questioned. "What for?"

Gaara's eyes finally left his to look at the village standing behind him. He gestured to it with a small movement of his head.

Shikadai turned to look behind him at the city of Konoha once again. "Konoha? What about it?"

"There's something we both desire in there." Gaara's fists clenched and his ringed eyes suddenly widened marginally. His lips still barely moved, but his voice was significantly raised, giving it a mad edge, "There's something in there we both desire to destroy!"

Gaara's sudden excitement sped up Shikadai's heartbeat, and he tried to subtly catch his breath. He felt the cold sweat prickling the back of his neck and he, too, clenched his fists, but not out of excitement but out of anxiety.

"I want to see it from the inside out!" Gaara exclaimed.

"What is 'it'?" Shikadai breathed in a low whisper.

The answer did not come immediately. Instead, a throaty, scratchy chuckle permeated the air. A slow, deliberate sound of amusement. Shikadai couldn't help but think that Gaara's laughter sounded extremely creepy and disturbing.

Finally: "Humanity."

A cruel smirk was twisted Gaara's pale lips, but as the high of his excitement passed, Shikadai watched as the smirk faded and the twisted lips fell back into a tight, straight line. The gleam in the dangerous pale green eyes receded and hardened over once more.

Then Gaara began to walk forward. He dragged his feet while he walked, his sandals not leaving the ground until the very last moment and falling heavily back down into the sand as he took his next step. Slow, deliberate steps that made small clouds of dust rise up from the sandy ground. _Step. Step. Step_. Shikadai watched as Gaara approached him—and walked right past him, the edge of his gourd ghosting past, but not touching, Shikadai's shoulder.

Fear leapt back at his heart when Gaara started to leave him behind, and alone, and, suddenly desperate, Shikadai cried, "Gaara—wait!" his hand reaching out in attempt to grab Gaara's shoulder.

His fingertips were a centimeter away from the white sash draped across Gaara's shoulder when a ribbon of sand suddenly latched onto his forearm, coiling tightly around his appendage. Still, Shikadai felt no fear except for that of Gaara leaving him alone.

Gaara hadn't even moved when the sand had reacted and burst out of his gourd—Shikadai couldn't see his face. He held his breath as the head of shaggy red hair slowly began to turn.

Shikadai expected to see anger or offense etched onto Gaara's pale face—he had, after all, tried to _grab_ him—but there was nothing but impassiveness. The sand was still wrapped around Shikadai's arm when Gaara stated, in a quiet voice, "You wanted to touch me."

For a split second, the hard shell covering those ringed eyes dissolved. Shikadai gulped.

But it was just for a split second, and the eyes were twice as hard when the coldness returned to them. The sand abruptly let go of Shikadai and slithered back into the gourd. "I said I wouldn't kill you. But I have no qualms about hurting you. Don't step out of line." Gaara turned once more and continued walking.

Shikadai released the breath he didn't know he was holding—before realizing once more that Gaara was walking away from him. Shikadai shuffled to catch up with him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Gaara did not stop walking or even turn to look at Shikadai this time. _He must be impatient with me_ , Shikadai thought.

"Isn't it obvious?" Gaara growled.

And it was. Gaara was obviously determinedly trudging towards the gates of Konoha.

Feeling like he had no choice, Shikadai followed Gaara. He decided to join him by his side so he would not be trailing him like a lost puppy—and so that he could see Gaara's face, in hopes of finding the smallest inclination of what the boy might be thinking. But here was yet another similarity between this Gaara and the Gaara Shikadai knew—their faces never revealed anything.

Shikadai glanced down at Gaara, again made acutely aware of their difference in height. "It smells terrible—i-in there."

"That's how the sand is supposed to smell," Gaara answered cryptically.

 _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ Shikadai decided not to press further, so he would have an excuse for not knowing what Gaara meant.

They entered the utterly colorless city. It really was made entirely of sand, Shikadai observed. But the details—the patterns on the pavement, the cracks along the wall—were so entirely congruous with the actual Konoha's that Shikadai doubted he wasn't really in Konoha after all—just Konoha with all of its life and color leeched out of it.

Shikadai noted how Gaara walked through the empty streets of Konoha like he knew them. Not for even a moment did the redheaded boy hesitate in his journey. Shikadai wondered if Gaara had a destination, but didn't open his mouth to ask. No, he wasn't afraid of Gaara. But he was _wary_ of him.

 _Step. Step. Step._ Their footsteps echoed in throughout the sandy walls of the empty Leaf Village. It was so deathly silent that each footfall reverberated in Shikadai's brain like thunder.

Shikadai then took it upon himself to take a look at his surroundings him. Konoha _was_ his home village after all; he ought to recognize where he was going, rather than follow a foreign Suna-nin around. He was surprised when they passed the façade of a familiar dango shop…turned right at the corner…

And there it was—at the end of the street. The Nara Clan Compound.

 _Mom! Dad!_

His breath hitched loudly and he turned to look at Gaara in alarm—did Gaara know where they were headed? Did he know they were nearing Shikadai's home? But Gaara kept his faithful, metronomic procession forward— _step. Step. Step._

Shikadai was much too distracted to keep his attentions on Gaara for much longer, however, and he subtly picked up his pace, his eyes glued to the façade of the Nara Clan Compound, the place his mother and father were waiting for him—he just knew it—

 _Step. Step._ Stop.

An eerie pause in the consistent sound of Gaara's footsteps was what made Shikadai stop his mad dash for his house and turn back to see what his short companion was doing. He stopped short when he saw Gaara with one hand pressed firmly against a sandy white wall, whilst his head was hanging, face parallel to the ground and hidden from Shikadai's view. The stark, crimson mop of hair was all Shikadai could see.

"Um…Gaara?" Shikadai asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"

When Gaara made no inclination of hearing him, Shikadai took a step towards him. "Gaara—"

"It's so pure…"

"Huh?"

Gaara's next words made Shikadai realize that it wasn't him who was being spoken to. "Do you see it, Mother? So pale, and white, and pure…do you see the way it glows under the full moon? Sparkles with innocence…" Gaara's breath started to speed up, becoming audible. "Do you feel it, Mother? The sand is so cold and smooth…it pulses with innocence beneath our hands…isn't it beautiful? This sand is still untainted and untouched…untainted and untouched and pure and beautiful…it's the perfect canvas— _the perfect—canvas_!" Gaara was starting to pant now. "This is all for you, Mother; tonight, the white moonlit sand will be painted with such pretty colors…tonight, we'll make the blank canvas come alive…we'll splatter these white, pure, innocent walls with pretty colors…don't you love the color red, Mother? I know you love the color red, Mother, I remember…we'll paint this white village red…we'll bathe the clean white sand in crimson, just you wait…we'll soak this untouched village with blood… _their_ blood, so warm and wet against the cold, cold sand...our prey is waiting, let's watch them rain and splatter for us…will you drink it in, Mother—drink it _all in_? Drowning…in crimson ecstasy!" Gaara lifted his head, and Shikadai took a step backward when he saw the crazed eyes, the gorged veins along the whites of eyes of with dilated pupils, the baring of teeth in a half-snarl, half-grin…Gaara's entire body was moving from the exertion of his now heavy panting. Bloodshot, aquamarine eyes stared straight at Shikadai as the grinning mouth started to yell. "Drinking and drowning in the crimson ecstasy of sin and we'll rip the screams out from their throats and the prey will shatter the silence it will be so so loud Mother have you ever heard such a beautiful sound of pure agony? And their beautiful red blood will coat the walls of this clean clean village and then it won't be so clean anymore and we'll mark this place curse it—curse it with our existence...we'll rip off their limbs and tear out their eyes and we'll see it all from the inside and the cold corpses will pile high in a funeral pyre and the red red red blood will come raining down you'll feel it Mother it'll coat our hands, our tainted hands…it's going to spill out in a flood of ecstasy and the moon will shine upon the running red blood like rivers on the village walls and in the sand and it will flow and feed its source, Mother, it will taste so sweet and so good, Mother, sooooo gooooood..."

"AHHHHH!"

Shikadai nearly jumped out of his skin at the scream, and his heartbeat sped up to the point it almost became a constant, thundering drone. At the same time, Gaara wildly threw his head back and started laughing, his entire tiny body convulsing from the jerky movement.

The scream ended, but Gaara's twisted laughter continued to ring in the air like a broken siren. Shikadai felt himself shaking uncontrollably, and, in a quivering mess, turned to the source of the scream, which had come from behind him—

"A-a-a M-M-M-MONSTER!"

Shikadai jumped yet again as he confronted the screaming person. It was a young girl with short, dark hair, perhaps five or six years old—she stood just outside the Nara Clan Compound. Shikadai recognized her as one of his distant relatives—a fellow clan member he saw perhaps once or twice a year at Nara Clan gatherings or in the vicinity of the Compound. Altogether insignificant in his life. He wondered what she was doing here now, and took in her appearance: the little girl was a splash of shocking color—a splotch of life—among the mundane uniformity of the village. Her feet were bare in the sand and she was wearing a long, peach nightgown. One of her hands was clutched tightly around a teddy bear. The other was stretched out in front of her, a tiny finger pointing at the object of her fear. Shikadai followed the direction of her finger with his eyes and ended up looking down at himself. _Me. She's afraid of me._

Shikadai looked into her wide, brown eyes dilated with pure terror, and in turn, Shikadai felt his own heart twist with horror within him. _She's not a monster, so why am I afraid of her?_ he asked himself. _Because she's not a monster—that's why I'm afraid. I am and she isn't. We're different._

But Shikadai couldn't help but wonder why the girl was pointing exclusively at _him_ —and not at Gaara. It was, after all, Gaara who had just given an insane speech about strewing blood and bodies around the village, not Shikadai. Gaara who was still chortling maniacally while Shikadai trembled in evident distress. _Is it so obvious already? That I'm a monster?_ he thought.

As if reading his thoughts, Gaara chuckled from somewhere behind him. "You see…Shikadai Nara…humans are shallow creatures…they fear only the… _immediate_ …source of their…misery…."

Loud whimpering and sniffling distracted Shikadai once again from the crazed Gaara—and, to be honest, he didn't even want to begin to attempt to interpret what the cryptic redhead meant. He turned his attention back to the girl, noticing how she flinched when his gaze landed on her, as if his eyes alone were enough to hurt her. She attempted to scramble backwards and away from the one she perceived as a monster, but ended up tripping over her own nightgown, landing on her bottom in the sand.

"Hey," Shikadai cooed, unsure of what he was doing or for what purposes he was reaching out to this little Nara girl. "What's wrong?"

The girl's response was a shriek and she began to scoot try to scoot backwards.

Shikadai frowned as he saw this and he took a step forward. "Stop scooting away," he commanded. "Tell me your name."

"N-n-no…nooooo…" the girl disobeyed.

"Tell me your name."

"No-o…please, g-go away, go a-a-away…."

Shikadai's response to that was to take yet another step forward. "Tell me your name," he repeated.

"M-m-mommy…Dad-d-dy…someb-body, someone…p-p-please! Help…help me…I'm s-s-scared-d-d…"

Shikadai felt his frustration peak. He strode meaningfully towards the girl until she was completely consumed by his overbearing shadow. "I. Said. Tell me. Your name!"

The girl screamed and hid behind her teddy bear as when she heard Shikadai raise his voice. She shuddered violently; it was like fear was playing her like an instrument and causing her to vibrate with a note of despair. "N-no…g-go away…someone…g-get it away…it…it…i-i-i-it's a m-mons-ster…!"

Something inside Shikadai snapped and he suddenly lunged towards the girl. He wasn't really sure of his own intentions, but all he knew was that this girl in front of him scared and disturbed him and that she was different from him and Gaara and that all he'd asked was for her _fucking_ name and she'd disobeyed _his orders_ and called him a monster and an _it_ —

"Do it!" Gaara shrieked from behind him. "You must do it, Shikadai Nara-! That look of fear in her eyes shall stain the sand, immortalized till the end of time!"

In the back of his mind, Shikadai wondered _do what_ but then his fingers wrapped around the girl's tiny neck and all of his thoughts were washed cleanly from his mind. Yes, in fact, it seemed that he had lost all ability to see or do or hear in that moment and given way to the sole capability to _feel_ —

After a few moments, he became aware of a terrible, piercing sound that split the desert night like a knife and rattled his eardrums—and he realized it was the sound of his own screaming. The hand that was wrapped around the girl's little neck felt as if it had been thrust onto a red-hot furnace: it was as if her skin was the hot boiling cauldrons of hell itself. He tried to remove his hand, attempting to jerk his hand away, but found that it stuck to the little girl's flesh as if it each and every one of his fingers had been nailed onto her throat. He screamed his heart out.

It seemed as if the girl was experiencing the same pain as he was, for her eyes were so wide they were ready to pop out and her mouth was open in an agonized scream. Behind them, Gaara laughed even louder, the only pause to his amusement being when he loudly sucked in a breath to laugh even more. Together, they sang their dissonant chorus of cacophony, agony, and insanity into the silent night air of Konohagakure.

But then something happened, and Shikadai nearly forgot his pain and screaming in favor of the sight before him burning itself into his eyes. He was utterly repulsed and horrified, but his eyes were as transfixed to the little girl before him as his hand was her neck—or what was left of her neck, anyway, because right underneath Shikadai's grasp, right between his fingers, the little girl's flesh _was melting right off her bones_. He felt the flesh shift and soften beneath him and turn into a mucky, sticky, red liquid that slid down her body like mud, feeding into a thick puddle of blood at their feet and flooding over his sandals and in between his toes.

Her head—her face, her nose, her mouth, her eyes—split apart right before his eyes and out oozed the mucky vermilion substance now pooling on the ground. _Shlick_ —he heard as her melted flesh slid off of her body— _shlap_ —he heard as the essence of her body slapped the sand in thick goops.

He stared at the two gaping holes where her eyes should have, but now he was gazing into the endless depths of her fleshless, ghostly white skull. His fingers were wrapped around the neck of her skeleton. He gasped and choked on air, suddenly remembering to move. He released his grip on her neck, and now that all of her skin had melted away, he easily retracted his hand. Without anything holding it up any longer, the girl's skeleton fell in a heap of bones in the puddle of her own melted corpse.

"Oh, my god—" Shikadai uttered. Shakily, he brought his palm upwards before his eyes, and every inch of it was slathered with warm crimson.

 _He had killed her._

Flicking his eyes downward, he found that one thing had escaped the wrath of melting flesh and blood and bones, after all: the girl's teddy bear. It lay neatly on top of her unrecognizable carcass like an uncanny, ironic, mockingly innocent decoration.

"Oh my god—" he repeated—

"Akiko? Akiko!" A woman suddenly rushed out of the Nara Compound, startling Shikadai. Her deranged eyes caught sight of the blood puddle and skeleton in front of Shikadai. "AKIKO!" So Akiko had been her name? Why had he wanted to know, anyway? "My daughter…my baby, my darling…NO!"

The pain and anguish radiating off of this woman in great powerful waves was so powerful—and so scary, for Shikadai, anyway, that he started retreating backwards. His bloodied sandals left red imprints in the sand leading away from the scene of the crime. Shikadai caught sight of the eyes of the girl's mother and immediately regretted it. They were not filled with agony— _they_ _were_ _agony_. The power of the mother's pain was so great that Shikadai felt himself hurting, and he clutched the part of him that hurt the most—his heart.

An animalistic, inhuman howl released itself, and Shikadai thought that even Ryomen's excruciating cries when he'd sawed his arm off couldn't compare—because this woman's pain was greater than Ryomen's. Her tears were for another human, for the blood of another—and this fact scared Shikadai more than the pure hatred that had been directed towards him in Ryomen's eyes.

Shikadai found himself scrambling backwards faster and even more desperately, but was stopped when his back collided with something and he fell onto his bottom with an " _oof_!"

Bewildered, he looked up, but his blood immediately ran cold when he saw that the something he'd collided into was Gaara, and that the boy was now leaning over him with a manic grin of sick glee etched into his face, his heavy breath only inches from Shikadai's face and blowing hot air into Shikadai's eyes. Before Shikadai knew what was happening, an arm of sand had wrapped itself around his torso and yanked him upwards to his feet, pushing him away from Gaara and back towards the corpse whose mother was grieving it. The ecstatic smile remained unmoved on the wide-eyed face of Sabaku no Gaara.

"No—Gaara-!" Shikadai yelled as he felt himself being thrusted forward. His protest was fruitless, however, and he landed right in front of the bloody skeleton.

As if sensing someone in front of her, the mother's broken eyes looked up and found a black-haired, teal-eyed monster. Shikadai stopped breathing as the woman's gaze continued to bore into him for many long moments, the air between them thick to the point of stifling.

Suddenly, another look hardened over the dark eyes of the woman: hatred. Shikadai had seen this look before in the ocean-blue eyes of Ryomen, but they were coupled with agony and grief in this woman. He nearly screamed just at the look the woman was giving him itself.

"You…" she snarled. "YOU!" The woman suddenly leapt up onto her feet. "You…you touched her, didn't you?! You touched her, you touched my Akiko, you touched her…" The woman stepped around her daughter's body and started advancing upon Shikadai. "You hurt my Akiko, didn't you? It was you, wasn't it? You…" The woman suddenly sobbed. "YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED MY AKIKO!" she screeched. "My darling, my baby, my life…" the woman moaned. "You KILLED HER! YOU MONSTER!" The woman pulled her hair desperately, looking more and more crazed by the second. "You DEMON…you killed her! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU MONSTERRRRRR! I'll kill you for killing my Akiko!"

This time, it was the woman who lunged for Shikadai's throat, not the other way around. Shikadai was so stunned that he didn't even react when the woman's hands closed in upon his throat.

And in the next moment, he was screaming once again, because that blinding, white-hot pain he'd felt on his hand now seemed to be incinerating his neck—it seemed as if this happened every time he made skin-to-skin direct contact with anyone. He remembered what had happened to Akiko Nara when he tried to strangle her, and Shikadai wondered if the same was going to happen to him—if his flesh was going to melt right off of his bones. He felt something warm and sticky engulfing his neck, and in agony and fear his eyes rolled to the back of his head while he choked.

But after several moments of feeling very much alive, Shikadai opened his eyes again and saw that what had happened to Akiko was again happening to her mother—even though her mother was the initiator of the strangling this time. The hands tightly wrapped around Shikadai's neck started oozing with crimson, and the boy watched in horror as the woman lost consciousness and slumped forward on top of him, her flesh sliding off of her body all the same. Before long, nothing but a bony skeleton still held Shikadai's neck in a chokehold, but all of the bloody, gory, melted flesh of the woman had fallen straight onto Shikadai's body. He was now completely soaked in blood from the neck down.

Shikadai quickly took a step backwards and the woman's hollow skeleton dislodged itself from his body, falling in heap next to the bones of her daughter.

The sound of his own breathing had all of a sudden become too loud. It was the sole sound still permeating the air, for the agonized screaming had ceased, Gaara's laughing had—

Shikadai jumped when he looked to his side and suddenly found the shorter boy standing next to him. He hadn't even noticed Gaara move. Shikadai studied the redhead closely, unsure of what he was thinking. Only moments ago, Gaara had been in the throes of sick euphoria, but now, he had resumed his passive, statuesque, foreboding expression.

Shikadai jumped again when the cork of Gaara's gourd popped open. He watched with apprehension as the grainy sand slithered out of the large container on the boy's back, but was still unprepared when a coil of sand wrapped around his own bloody collar and yanked downwards, forcing him to kneel next to the dead bodies.

"So much blood…it's so sweet, Shikadai Nara…" Gaara rasped.

The sand around Shikadai's collar suddenly yanked him forward harshly, and in the next moment, Shikadai's senses were overflown with something sharp and metallic. The crimson heat nearly consumed him, and he realized that Gaara had forced his face into the bloody gore, so now not only was his entire body dripping with blood, but his mouth, nose, and eyes were filled with it as well.

"This is the taste of power and insanity…if must feed us eternally for we crave it forever and it will...never…be…enough…" Gaara croaked.

Shikadai was doing all in his poor power to remove the disgusting substance from his face and mouth, but was having great difficulty, as not an inch of his skin remained clean and dry anymore.

The sand from Gaara's gourd slithered out over the dead corpses of Akiko Nara and her mother, and Shikadai watched as the sand scooped up the mess of blood and bones and started to grind and pulverize the skeletons into nothingness. The sand hovered in front of Gaara, now stained with death and the bodies of crushed human beings, and then slithered back into the gourd. Shikadai gasped, wondering how many other dead bodies joined the two in the large container on Gaara's back.

"The blood and tears…mingles with the sand that surrounds my body…it feeds my soul and makes me…stronger…" Gaara breathed.

 _"_ _How can the Kazekage possibly be protecting the people of Suna when his sand is still soaked with the blood of their dead? How can my father and sister rest in peace when their corpses still lie within the sand that their murderer uses as his ultimate defense to protect himself, when he wears their dead bodies on his skin like armor?"_ Ryomen screamed in Shikadai's mind.

He stared in horror at Gaara, and Gaara stared back at him, the atmosphere between them cackling with unspoken tension.

The silence was that lingered in the air was meant to be broken, and when it did, it was broken with an explosion. Shikadai yelled out in surprise when, without prelude, the buildings around him—the entire village of Konohagakure—burst into trillions of grains of whirling sand that swept about him in a sandstorm tornado, completely blinding him from anything and everything, deafening him from all sounds except for the wild howling and screaming of the wind. He screwed his eyes shut—the sandstorm was so strong Shikadai wondered if it would completely tear his limbs apart, sucking in his body until he was nothing more than a few grains of sand amongst the trillions in the chaos. He wondered if this was what is was like to be inside a grinder—only this grinder was life-sized and much scarier, because it was the desert and the desert had no barriers, no walls.

As quickly as it had begun, the sandstorm ended, and Shikadai stumbled when the wind and sand flying around him abruptly ceased, the howling of the storm suddenly silenced. When he opened his eyes, he found a thick layer of dust hovering in the air, but he was still able to see through the haze, and what he saw was—

The ruins of a destroyed Konoha.

The scene before him hit him like a ton of stones, and he actually stumbled backwards in shock at the state of the village that was his home country. Had he spared his companion a look, he would have seen Gaara standing there looking as impassive as ever, but he was far too distracted to pay even the redheaded Suna ninja any heed. Instead, he took off in a wild run, searching for remnants of something—perhaps some _one_ —that could be salvaged.

He ran and ran, his heart beating erratically within the confines of his rib cage. He heard the _step step step step step_ of his footfalls as he ran past the crushed and demolished buildings of Konoha.

 _Step step step step step_. He heard himself running. _Step step step step step step step_. He heard someone running beside him.

Without a second thought, Shikadai turned his head to see who it was running beside him, fully expecting it to be Gaara, since the short redhead had been his uncanny companion for most of the night already. He was not expecting to see what he _did_ see, and so surprised—and terrified—was he, that he let out a loud yell and fell to the ground.

There were in fact _two_ someones, not just one, but their running was so in sync that their footsteps sounded as one. One was taller, one was shorter, but they looked very much the same save the difference in height. They were clad in skin-tight green jumpsuits, their black hair trimmed neatly.

Only two people in the world would be running in such a disciplined manner, wearing such clothes—

Rock and Metal Lee.

Shikadai would have been very deeply disturbed that neither Lee was yelling "YOUTHHHHH!", pumping his fists in the air, swearing to run around Konoha one trillion times, or, at the very least, acknowledging Shikadai's presence and insisting he train with them, were it not for the fact that he was entirely too disturbed with something else. That something else was the fact that neither Lee even _had_ a face—gaping, dripping bloody holes replaced their visages, and it looked as though something had torn their faces right off from their heads. Such an injury should have undoubtedly resulted in _death_ , yet there they were—running, dead and robotic, leaving a trail of crimson in their wake, raw, bloody flesh replacing their nose, mouth, eyes, and bushy eyebrows, but running nonetheless. Upon closer inspection, Shikadai noticed that the left arm and leg of Rock Lee, the older of the two, seemed terribly mangled—the bones underneath his arm looked downright crushed, and it hung limply at his side.

From his position on the ground, Shikadai held his breath and stopped all movement, lest either of the faceless Lees "notice" him, if that were at all still possible, but they continued running past Shikadai, the rhythm of their footsteps dead and metronomic. _Step step step step step_. The sound faded away and the sight of the two Lees disappeared into the sandy fog hanging over Konoha.

Shikadai finally let out a strangled yell and finally scrambled up off his feet and began running again, this time in the opposite direction of the Lees—he had no desire to run into _them_ again. He didn't even begin to try to interpret what he had just witnessed. He ran past broken boulders, halved buildings, piles of jagged debris, and stopped when he saw the cracked façade of a very familiar wall. It was adorned with a round fan that Shikadai remembered to be white and red, but neither of those colors showed in this sand-colored, uniform Konoha. Nevertheless, he could easily recognize the Uchiha Clan symbol.

Carefully, quietly, he slipped inside. To his grief, most of the Uchiha Clan Compound was demolished, and the dust inside it was thicker than outside, making it relatively difficult for Shikadai to see. He coughed several times from the debris, and, peeping one eye open, called, "Aunt..Sakura? Are you in here? It's me, Shikadai!" Silence answered him. "Aunt Sakura! Sarada? Hellooooo? Does anyone know what's going on? Sarada!"

He kicked a particularly large piece of debris on accident and nearly tripped. " _Oof_!" he cried, righting himself. However, as he recovered, he looked up and in front of him and nearly retched at the scene that greeted him.

The entire, debris-strewn area was splattered with blood. Dismembered, mutilated body parts were scattered about, but from the carnage it was obvious enough to glean that the remains belonged to a pink-haired woman and a black-haired girl.

Shikadai's vision suddenly blurred, the appalling crimson before his eyes shimmering. "Aunt Sakura…Sarada…"

He turned and ran again, searching frantically about in the other areas of the Uchiha Compound. "Mr. Uchiha!" he screamed. "MR. UCHIHA!" His calls went unanswered, and Sasuke Uchiha was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard Shikadai tried.

In a tearful frenzy, Shikadai fled the destroyed Uchiha Compound and ran through Konohagakure's streets once again, panting loudly as his tears slid down his cheeks and mingled with the blood that stained them. He passed the corner, and he saw a splotch of color in the butcher's shop. He ran to it, swiping his tears from his eyes so as to clear his vision, and when he did so, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

It was common to see the sliced-open carcasses of skinned pigs or chickens hanging in front of the butcher's shop, but now, the four carcasses hanging in the front of the shop belonged to neither pig nor chicken. Strung up by their necks in the butcher's shop, naked, sliced open, and degradingly displayed, was none other than the Hokage's family: Uncle Naruto, Aunt Hinata, Boruto Uzumaki, and Himawari Uzumaki.

Shikadai let out a scream. "NOOOOO!" he shouted.

Turning once again, he sprinted, more frantic than ever, this time towards the Yamanaka Flower Shop. He could feel his heart in his throat as he ripped through the ruined streets, approached the shop, and slammed the door open. The moment he did so, however, his heart plummeted.

It seemed as if a tornado had visited the inside of the Yamanakas' shop; the flowers, which were, interestingly, colored and vibrant as ever, were strewn across the floor. However, splayed on the ground alongside the upturned pots of soil and uprooted plants were human bodies: he saw Aunt Ino, Uncle Sai, Uncle Chouji, Aunt Karui, Kurenai-sensei, and Mirai, blood and flowers decorating their corpses in death.

He choked on his own spit and what sounded like a cross between a gurgle and a shout escaped his lips.

He had no choice but to step over their bodies as he desperately searched the rest of the shop, but it was soon evident that it save six bodies, it was unoccupied. "Where are they?" he cried as he ran out of the shop.

"Where are you?" He ran and ran looking for them. He ran past a dark black stain on the ground, and only upon close inspection did he realize that it was a swarm of dead bugs. In the middle of the mound of insect bodies was Aburame-sensei…

"Where are you guys?" He still couldn't find them. He passed the cold, rotting corpse of a white dog, and as he continued to run he found corpse after corpse of dogs neatly lining the street. He ran, seeing dog after dog after dog after dog after dog after the cold, rotting corpse of Kiba Inuzuka…

"Are these what you're looking for?"

Shikadai whipped around, still panting, when he heard the cool, low, smooth voice of Sabaku no Gaara speaking to him once again.

Sabaku no Gaara was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The boy's pale arms were not crossed in front of his torso as usual, each one instead holding onto an object roughly the size of a head. In fact, the objects in Gaara's hands were not only the size of heads; they _were_ heads.

Gaara held the decapitated heads of Inojin Yamanaka and Chouchou Akimichi as if they were mere souvenirs he had picked up at the tourist shop. Shikadai gaped at his two teammates, whose eyes were still wide open and the last moment of fear and terror still etched into the pale blue and golden eyes, respectively.

"What did you do?" Shikadai whispered.

"You were looking for these things, so I found them. Your running around was pathetic and a waste of time."

"No!" Shikadai shouted. "I mean what did you _do to them_?"

"I didn't do anything," Gaara informed him calmly. "You did this to them."

"What—"

 _BANG_ "Temari!"

Shikadai spun around at the noise and the outcry and was shocked to see himself back in front of the Nara Clan Compound. Even more shocking, however, was the fact that unlike the rest of Konoha, his home looked utterly perfect and untouched. He left Gaara and his two dead teammates behind and ran towards his house. He had very distinctly heard the voice of his father calling out to his mother.

"DAD!" Shikadai screamed, the torture and pain in his soul pouring forth in his voice.

"Shikamaru!" It was Temari's gruff voice! However, Shikadai couldn't remember ever hearing such desperation in his mother's voice before. "Shikamaru, get out of there! You still have time! Just go! I'll hold it off!"

"MOM!" Shikadai screamed.

"Dammit Temari!" Shikadai heard Shikamaru sob. "I'm not leaving you alone—where are you—just let me come to you— _shit I can't get through-_ "

"Crybaby, you will leave this instant or I will pulverize you, you hear?" Temari's words sounded like the normal banter she usually had with Shikamaru, but her voice was shaky and undeniable pain laced it. "I don't want to see you right now—just go!"

"I'm coming Temari, I'm getting help, hold on, hold on—" Shikamaru pleaded. It sounded like he was crying. Very hard.

"MOM! DAD!" Shikadai burst through the front door of the Nara home.

There, standing a mere few feet in front of him, was Shikadai's mother.

Temari of the Sand, in her full kunoichi glory, her four ponytails sharp and glaring and her teal eyes even sharper. She was dressed in her battle gear, her Suna forehead protector tied tightly around her head, and she was holding her iron fan open to all three moons.

There was a full second of silence as Temari stared at Shikadai, and Shikadai stared at Temari. Then, from somewhere in the back of the house, Shikamaru cried, "TEMARI! WHAT WAS THAT?"

There was the banging and scrambling, and it sounded like Shikamaru was trying very hard—and failing—to reach them.

"It—" Temari began, her voice suddenly much softer and calmer. She looked at Shikadai straight in the eye. "It's the monster."

Temari's words struck Shikadai like a real blow, and he couldn't help but take a step backwards, away from his mother, as tears swarmed his eyes.

"Mom…" he whispered. "I'm not—"

- _a monster_ , he was going to say, but he realized that he _was_ , so he couldn't deny that, could he? "I'm, I'm, I'm…I'm Shikadai…! Don't you…remember…? Your…son…?"

"TEMARI! HOLD ON! I'M COMING! JUST HANG IN THERE, TEMARI, HANG IN THERE—"

"GODDAMMNIT, SHIKAMARU, HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE? I SAID, GO! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, SOME WEAK WOMAN? I SAID I CAN TAKE IT! THIS IS MY FIGHT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE—J-JUST—LEAVE!"

Shikadai heard the crack in Temari's voice. "M-mom—" he tried again, but then Temari's eyes hardened and she brandished her giant fan, as if preparing to use it.

"N-no, MOM, stop! Can't you see-! Why don't you remember…! I'm, I'm—" Shikadai's words were turning more and more into a garble of nonsense.

He fell to his knees. "You're…my mom. I'm your son. I'm…Shikadai, Mom, I'm Shikadai…"

Shikadai clenched his eyes shut as Temari raised her fan high above her head`.

"Ah!" _Crash_

Shikadai's eyes flew open once again at Temari's outcry. His eyes widened when he saw that his mother had dropped her fan altogether, and that she was clutching her throat. He didn't realize what was happening at first, and cried out, "MOM!" once again, but when Temari's face started losing a little bit of color, Shikadai realized what was happening.

The black ribbon Shikadai had tied around his mother's throat when he left Konoha was slowly constricting. The thread of fate that tied mother and son together was now choking Temari to death.

Shikadai watched in dread as Temari lowered her head and coughed and struggled. Her hands fumbled at her neck and tried to remove the ribbon, but she was evidently failing. Shikamaru was raising an even louder racket from wherever he was, banging and screaming, but Temari ceased to reply him.

After several more moments of struggle, Temari lifted her head once again, and Shikadai's heart constricted in his chest when he observed the tinge pale of his mother's hearty cheeks.

It was with evident strain that Temari lifted her hypnotizing teal eyes and met Shikadai's own, although the woman still seemed unable to recognize him as her son. She dropped her hands to her sides, giving up her fruitless attempts to save herself, and she suddenly released a bitter chuckle.

It was evident that it took her great effort to speak, but Temari was always one to overcome obstacles, so she did it anyway. "Death by—asphyxiation—eh? As a little girl, I always—dreamed of—dying in a tornado—funny, isn't it? But this is—strangely fitting—" She coughed. "I'm one of the Sand Siblings—I'm a shinobi—not a afraid to die—ha, ha…I'm happy I get to die first—big sisters are—supposed to die—before their little brothers—not the other way—around—"

Temari's entire body convulsed, but she kept pressing on: "I'm—really happy—that this is the way things are—gonna end—I don't have to pretend, do I-?—with—you—of all things…" She looked at Shikadai meaningfully, still, somehow, deaf to his implorations. "Never wanted—to be a heroine or—a martyr—this is the rightful kind of—end for someone like me—" She gasped. "I was born—a bad woman—shinobi—did things I'm not—proud of…so this is the way—things will end…'cause who am I kidding, crybaby? Not gonna—win here—gonna—live up to everything I did—after all—always—hated liars—don't wanna—die a lie—" With great difficulty, she chuckled. "They'll be in—hell, waiting for me—not 'cause they want to see me—they've—waited too long for me—to go back to the place—I belong…"

"N-no, stop saying—that—" Shikadai cried. "MOM!" he screamed when Temari fell onto her knees, shaking violently. Her lungs were evidently severely depleted of oxygen and her face was now starting to tinge an unsightly blue. Shikadai watched with a breaking heart as his suffering mother clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"B-but—you know—what? I d-don't think I—I don't think I regret it at all…! B-because—in this l-life—I-I got to be—I got to be a m-mother…! Y-you have…n-no idea what it's like…to…be a parent…"

"M-mom…"

"M-my boy…is still out there...but—don't worry, Shikadai, Mama will—always…protect you! I-I…hope I…lived up to…K-karura…"

Shikadai nearly froze at the mention of Karura, but the mysterious woman's name was soon forgotten as he was too distracted with his mother's state.

Temari was nearing the end. She fell onto the floor, flat on her back, sprawled next to the trusty fan she'd carried all her life. "S-Shikadai…" she whispered weakly. Temari closed her teal eyes and smiled, looking much less like someone who was about to die than someone who was nearing enlightenment. "P…p-lease…t-tell…Shika…dai…t-that I…l-love…h-h…h...h…"

Temari suddenly stilled, and her muscles stopped twitching in pain and misery. The ghost of her last smile remained on her face. The feisty rhinoceros was suddenly at peace.

For one full second, the only thought that crossed Shikadai's mind was how beautiful his mother looked in death.

Then reality sat in, and the grief hit him so hard that he was unable to sob, or scream, or bawl—he was shocked numb and he sat soundlessly on the floor beside his mother, endless tears flowing down his cheeks.

Shikamaru's banging and screaming continued to permeate the air from somewhere far away, but as time passed, they became farther and farther until they stopped altogether. Perhaps he had died too. Cause of death: sadness. It wouldn't be a surprise: who could survive the loss of a woman like Temari? As the silence weighed in, death finally gained full reign.

Shikadai's lungs were constricting horribly, and as he sat there, nothing but the sound of his own sniffles and accompanying him, he thought he had never known the meaning of loneliness until then.

There was a rustle from behind him, but Shikadai paid it no mind. He gave absolutely no reaction when Gaara's slow, deliberate footsteps approached him.

"Weak little monster, crying in the sand…" Gaara spoke, his voice strangely calm without any malice. This time, Shikadai lifted his head slightly at the voice. Temari was Gaara's sister—wasn't the redhead going to react to her death at all? Granted, this was a twelve-year-old Gaara, but Temari's four ponytails should be recognizable at any age…

"Weak little monster…take my hand…"

Shikadai resolutely ignored Gaara, too grief-stricken to pay the boy much mind.

"You've much to learn."

Shikadai did not acknowledge the statement.

"You've much to learn," Gaara repeated.

If Gaara expected an answer, he didn't receive any; Shikadai didn't even turn around to face him, instead sitting dumbly next to his mother and quietly sniffling.

Gaara leaned down, and, right next to Shikadai's ear, whispered, "Shut up."

This time, Gaara's voice held a note of threat, but Shikadai wasn't going to stop grieving just because Gaara wanted him to. He continued to cry.

People only ever had one chance to obey Sabaku no Gaara's orders. Because if you didn't obey him the first time, you'd surely be dead before you had the chance to be ordered a second time, so _too bad_. If you did obey him the first time, well, what he probably told you to do was to shut the fuck up before he killed you, so it was still _, too bad_.

But Shikadai was neither human nor prey in Gaara's eyes right now, so when the sand slithered out of the gourd and wrapped around him, it was not to crush him to death. Instead, Gaara's sand firmly wrapped itself around Shikadai's mouth, stifling his crying and any protests he would have made. This time, Shikadai whipped around to stare at Gaara in questioning alarm, but did not have much of a chance to do anything when sand wrapped around his legs and forced him to stand up.

Unable to speak and unable to move to his own will, Shikadai stared at Gaara, wide-eyed, as the Suna ninja stared back at him with pale, passive aquamarine eyes. Without another word, Gaara turned and started walking out of the Nara house. "Mmm—" Shikadai protested against his gag, but the sand around his legs moved of its own accord and forced him to walk alongside Gaara.

Their pace was leisurely, but every step that Gaara took seemed to be laced with danger. They walked through the ruined streets of Konoha until they had reached the gates. Shikadai again made a desperate noise of protests when the exited the Leaf Village, but Gaara paid him no heed, and the two of them travelled out into the empty desert.

Shikadai did not know how long he was forced to walk against his will, but every unintended step drained a little more of the nearly nonexistent energy from his body, and he soon found his eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion, even as he and Gaara continued their procession through the desert.

Shikadai's eyes only flew open again when he felt the sand around his legs stop moving. He could not open his mouth to ask Gaara what was going on, and why they had halted in their journey, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself face to face with a wall.

Shikadai turned his head to look at Gaara, and found the boy staring intently at the wall with an almost contemplative expression. They stayed that way for a while—Gaara staring at the wall and Shikadai staring at Gaara, until the sand-wielder opened his mouth and said, darkly, "This is my realm."

Shikadai did not really understand what Gaara meant by this, so he looked at the wall for some answers. Only then did he take a double take as he realized what it was, and where he was.

This was the outer wall of Sunagakure.

Shikadai's heart leapt in joy for a full moment when he saw the city, but it plummeted once more when he remembered his Uncle Gaara, the Kazekage. What did this Sand Village mean to Shikadai now?

When Shikadai first arrived in Sunagakure, he'd been in awe of the intricate carvings pictured on the walls of the city, and his Uncle Kankuro had told him that they depicted the history of Sunagakure. This time, Shikadai observed those carvings for the first time to see what kind of stories these walls held.

And the first thing he saw was the demon of the desert. Carved onto the wall, was the image of Sabaku no Gaara killing.

Sabaku no Gaara strangling a jonin to death. Sabaku no Gaara ripping open the womb of a pregnant woman. Sabaku no Gaara standing in the blood rain of a man he'd crushed. Sabaku no Gaara standing in the midst of a crowd of thirty dead people.

Sabaku no Gaara killing.

Sabaku no Gaara killing.

Sabaku no Gaara killing.

A muffled yelp escaped Shikadai's lips, but even before he had the chance to finish his gagged exclamation, Gaara was again forcing him to walk alongside him through the narrow alley at the entrance of Sunagakure and into the city.

In the middle of the passageway, they ran into a jonin guard. The man frowned at first when he witnessed someone walking toward him, but as Gaara drew closer recognition dawned in the shinobi's eyes. "L-lord—Gaara-!" he squeaked.

Gaara barely spared the jonin guard a glance as sand coiled around his neck. "N-no—" the man started to protest, but he never got to finish his protest as the sand started constricting tightly around his throat. He gurgled and moaned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Shikadai waited, but the jonin's eyes never returned from the back of his head. His gurgling had also stopped.

It was in utter horror that Shikadai looked for Gaara's expression after the redhead killed a man in cold blood. What Shikadai found on Gaara's face was the worst thing he could possibly expect, because there was no expression there at all.

It was somewhat surprising to Shikadai that the streets of Sunagakure were not completely empty, and there were stragglers strolling about. Gaara walked slowly and determinedly ahead in his own village, and the softly bustling streets suddenly turned into alleys of panic and fear. Shikadai watched as the villagers scrambled several steps backward for every step forward he and Gaara took through the streets. Most quickly filed away into the closest refuge they could find.

A scream pierced through the air, and at the sound Gaara stopped. Shikadai looked to see a pregnant woman staring at the two of them in shock and fear. One of her hands covered her mouth while the other was placed protectively around her stomach.

Gaara did not blink or so much as move a finger, but his sand did otherwise. In one swift motion, Gaara's sand was tearing towards the woman. Shikadai yelled against his gag as the sand turned into a large and menacing claw that pried away the woman's hand from her stomach and buried its sharp nails into her stomach, eliciting an agonized wail from the pregnant woman. The claw of sand closed and yanked itself away from the woman's body, and she fell onto the ground in a bloody heap. Shikadai closed his eyes so he would not have to see the bloody mess that was a baby that was supposed to be inside of the woman's womb, not outside of it and lying on the ground.

The Gaara-Shikadai duo walked into a part of town that Shikadai did not recognize. They stopped in front of a large building, outside of which a shinobi was standing guard. The man's pupils dilated when he saw just who—or what—had decided to visit him. "L-lord Gaara—" the man squeaked in a manner much like the jonin at Sunagakure's entrance gates. Sand engulfed his entire body and lifted him up into the air. Shikadai watched as Gaara's fist slowly closed, and suddenly he was drenched in blood rain.

Gaara tilted his head upwards by a millimeter, as if relishing in the feeling of the warm, sticky, crimson drizzle. After it had ended, the boy, now coated in blood, reached for the handle of the door of the building and slowly pulled it open. It was almost as if the door, too, protested this action, and it creaked loudly.

There were about thirty shinobi and kunoichi inside of the room, and whatever the noise they had been making quickly ceased when Gaara opened the door. Gaara stood in the doorway and glared at the thirty people for several tense moments. In a low voice, he spoke to Shikadai. "The fear and hatred in their eyes is so loud…so I make their fear louder."

The sand lashed out. In less than five seconds, there was one less person among the thirty in the room and one more splatter of blood on the wall.

"One," Gaara counted.

The sand lashed out again. "Two."

Again. "Three."

Again. "Four."

Gaara monotonously counted as if he were not numbering the people he was killing in a single night. He was doing a great job at making the fear of what remained of the thirty shinobi scream loudly. Nevertheless, as Gaara's numbers grew bigger and bigger, the amount of blood running off the walls and on the floorboards of the room became more the amount of screaming.

"Twenty-four."

Shikadai gasped as the sand around his mouth and legs suddenly loosened and released him. He instinctively took a step away from the short redhead, but Gaara didn't even seem to notice. Instead, his eyes searched the six remaining shinobi, who were all cowering and quivering in corners. After some contemplation, Gaara seemed to make up his mind and set his eyes on a brown-haired, chocolate-eyed kunoichi—

 _Wait._

"GAARA, WAIT!" Shikadai screamed, not thinking about what repercussions his outcry might cause. "GAARA, THAT'S—"

The sand lashed out.

As the kunoichi's corpse slid to the floor, Shikadai noticed that the smiling face of Matsuri would forever be smiling, because a wide, eerie Glasgow smile had been cut into her face.

Gaara finally responded to Shikadai and slowly turned to look at him.

"…your student…" Shikadai finished weakly.

"Twenty-five," Gaara said, looking straight into Shikadai's eyes. Shikadai felt his knees grow weak as Gaara suddenly started walking toward him _. Is he going to kill me now…?_

Gaara stopped inches away from Shikadai's face. "She's not my student...you are."

Shikadai was genuinely surprised at this comment. "… _What_?"

A ghost of a smile twisted on Gaara's lips. "Weak little monster, you've much to learn." Gaara turned away from him and his sand lashed out again. "Twenty-six."

Shikadai did not wait to spectate twenty-seven through thirty; now that his limbs were free, he turned resolutely and took off on his heels. He ran from the crime scene, from the massacre, the holocaust, from _Gaara_ —he ran as if he were running for his life. He ran towards the gates of Sunagakure. He did not stop. He ran out of Sunagakure and into the open desert. He did not stop.

He tore through the sand, almost blindly, with no destination in his mind except for _away_ —and it was at this moment that the voice that had woken him up decided to visit him again.

He could almost hear Rasa shaking his head. "You always run away. You never face anything head on, you just run away like the sick coward you are."

Shikadai nearly stopped in disbelief. How could he _not_ run, after everything that had happened?

"It's really such a disappointment to see you fail," Rasa continued. "Running away never solves anything. It will only make things worse."

"P-please," Shikadai whispered at Rasa, "let me talk to Karura."

"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU, SHE'S! NOT! HERE!" Rasa exploded. "How many times have I told you…you don't deserve her...?"

Shikadai flinched at Rasa's words, and felt overwhelmingly sad by them. "Karura…" he whimpered. He thought of everything that had happened today.

Sabaku no Gaara. His village. Its destruction.

The death of his comrades.

The death of his family.

Gaara's village. Sunagakure.

The massacre, the holocaust.

Pain suddenly swept through Shikadai, and he had to look down to see if he had been wounded somehow. He was still covered in the drying blood of Akiko Nara and her mother, but none of it was his own. He fisted the area over his heart with his hand. "Karura," he began again, deciding to directly appeal to the gentle woman whose comforting words and voice he missed dearly. "Why does it hurt so much _here_?"

A gentle voice answered him so immediately that Shikadai actually jumped in surprise. It was not, however, Karura, and Shikadai wondered who this stranger was.

"Blood does flow from a wound on the body, and the wound may appear painful. But as time passes, the pain naturally disappears. By using medicine, the healing is even faster. But what's dangerous is a wound of the heart. Nothing has more trouble healing…A wound on the body and a wound of the heart are slightly different. Unlike a wound on the body, there is no ointment and sometimes, it doesn't heal for one's life. But there is one thing that can cure a wound of the heart. However, this is a complicated medicine. It can only be given to you by another person. The thing that can cure a wound of the heart…is love."

Shikadai gasped, and this time he completely halted in his tracks. "…Love…?" he whispered. His fingers tightened around his chest. "But…how can I get it…?" he asked desperately.

"Don't you know, Gaara? It has already been given to you…"

The gentle man's words were so riveting that Shikadai failed to notice that he'd been acknowledged as Gaara, not as Shikadai. He simply stood there as the words repeated themselves in his brain.

 _Love…it has already been given to you…_

"There you are."

Shikadai stopped his musings when he was spoken to by yet another voice. This time, however, it was easy to pinpoint who the voice was. "Of all times to show up…why now?" he asked himself. Because the voice that spoken to him _had_ been himself. His one tormenter and his one true self. The voice inside his mind.

"Turn around," it commanded.

"Where have you been?" Shikadai asked again.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Just turn around."

Apprehensively, Shikadai turned around, hesitant about viewing whatever it was that his voice wanted him to view. And then he gasped.

It wasn't the voice speaking to him from inside his mind at all. Because there, standing a mere few feet in front of him, was himself.

He gazed into the teal eyes of Shikadai Nara.

* * *

There were several key differences between himself and the copy of himself standing a few feet in front of him, he decided.

Firstly, they sported different hairstyles. The Shikadai standing in front of him had bangs, a style he had never sported before. Copy-Shikadai's bangs were parted sharply at the left side of his forehead, and Shikadai gulped upon realizing where he'd seen the style before: Gaara always wore his hair this way.

Secondly, Copy-Shikadai wasn't coated in blood like he was. However, Copy-Shikadai was holding a bleeding human in his arms. It was a kunoichi.

Worst of all, however, was the hardened, cruel expression that Copy-Shikadai wore on his face. A expression too much like Sabaku no Gaara's.

Shikadai's eyes slid to the bleeding kunoichi in his copy's arms. He was just wondering who it was when he suddenly caught a glint of steel-colored hair in the moonlight. _Icho._

Shikadai suddenly felt panicked. "Put her down," he urgently told his copy, not trusting the actions of his replica.

Copy-Shikadai cocked his head at him. "Why?"

" _Put her down_ ," Shikadai insisted again through gritted teeth.

Copy-Shikadai continued to stare back at him for several moments. Shikadai jumped when he saw himself suddenly burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. "What? You couldn't possibly be worried about her…could you? Because monsters don't worry about anything…other than themselves."

 _"_ I want you to stop touching her, and put her down!" Shikadai screamed.

Copy-Shikadai didn't miss a beat. "No, you don't. I know you _want_ this, Shikadai Nara. I'm you, remember? You can't wait to see her blood running through the sand—"

"N-no—"

"—because this is the purpose of your existence."

Copy-Shikadai's words struck a chord in Shikadai's memory. _"…What is your purpose as a shinobi?"_ Uncle Gaara asked him.

"What _is_ the purpose of my existence?" Shikadai asked Copy-Shikadai.

Copy-Shikadai smirked, and Shikadai felt his blood run cold. Copy-Shikadai took slow, deliberate steps toward him, and Shikadai couldn't help but think that it was terribly disconcerting to watch yourself approach yourself. It was just weird. Copy-Shikadai leaned in and spoke into his ear. "To love yourself and only yourself. You are monster who walks the world alone, and you are a monster…who uses others to prove your _own existence_."

"Using…others...? …How…?"

The answer to this question should not have been spoken in such a bland, uncaring, unaffected tone. But Gaara did it anyway. "By killing them."

Shikadai whipped around while Copy-Shikadai smirked. He saw Sabaku no Gaara approaching him once again, and Shikadai couldn't help but wonder what heinous crimes the twelve-year-old redhead had just finished completing.

"You…" Shikadai breathed at Gaara. All of a sudden, he felt a blind and unquenchable rage at the sand manipulator. To a spectator, it could be observed that Shikadai Nara _snapped_. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST KILL ME ALREADY?"

"I said I wouldn't kill you, yet, because you're useful to me yet."

"In another place…and time…you asked me the purpose of my existence," Shikadai seethed at Gaara. "And I told you I didn't know, so you said I was as good as DEAD! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR NOW?"

Gaara glared at Shikadai in a deadly manner, but Shikadai could no longer find himself caring. "I am a relic of the past," Gaara finally answered. "Twenty years ago, I asserted my existence to a world that didn't want it…and twenty years ago, my existence was quashed by…Naruto Uzumaki."

Shikadai started. " _Uncle Naruto_?"

"He fought me, and because he was stronger he nearly eliminated the world of my existence. Out of that fight, the Kazekage Gaara was born. But…I never ceased to exist, no matter how weak, suppressed, forgotten…or _unmissed_ I was.

"But the purpose of my existence has never changed. To kill others to prove my existence. Because there was still hate in the world, I never disappeared. For years I have waited for the perfect vessel that will undertake the purpose of the forgotten Sabaku no Gaara, so that they world may never again forget my hate as it did twenty years ago…"

Gaara paused. "I found _you_ , Shikadai Nara."

"M-me?"

"Yes!" A feral grin broke out on Gaara's face. "You are my reincarnation—the reincarnation of my pain and hatred. Through you, I will squeeze the great big Earth dry of its warm, sweet blood…the world will once again cower in fear at the mention of my name, and my existence will never be forgotten!...Shikadai Nara, you will be the monster that I was. You will kill as I killed…you will show the world that there is no such thing as love, only hate! …And you will make me feel… _alive_ again."

Shikadai couldn't help but gasp at Gaara's explanation. For a long while, he could only stand there, dumbly, as he processed the mission Gaara had assigned to him.

Finally, he opened his mouth to shakily ask, "But you said you wouldn't kill me, _yet_. So when are you planning to _do it_?"

"I love no one but myself," Gaara replied. "I'm only keeping you alive because you still have a purpose to fulfill. But I don't love you, Shikadai Nara, and once you are the only one left on this wretched Earth I will kill you all the same. You will prove my existence for the final time, because it is your blood that I truly want to taste! I want to see your entrails covering my hands…I want to rip your throat out and maybe gouge out your pretty little eyes…"

At this moment, Copy-Shikadai snuck up on Shikadai. "But we are monsters like he is," Copy-Shikadai whispered in Shikadai's ears. "We don't love him either. He is our teacher, and he will teach us the ways of pain and hatred, but when the time comes…it will be us…we who kill him…because we too, have our own existence to prove…"

Shikadai showed no reaction other than closing his eyes and clenching and unclenching his fists. He could feel the cold sweat beading on his temple as he processed everything he had learned so far.

"Come, Shikadai…" his own voice whispered in his ear. "Now is the time…join me and let us finally begin living…as the monster that you truly are…"

 _All right_ , Shikadai thought. _I've made my decision. I've already lost everything anyway, so…_

 _It's about time I_ did something _._

He opened his eyes and unclenched his fists. Then with a hard shove, he pushed Copy-Shikadai away from him, causing his replica to actually fall down into the sand out of surprise.

Shikadai watched as his replica's teal eyes boiled with sudden danger. "You…" Copy-Shikadai growled. "Are you really going to keep denying what you are?"

"What does it matter, anyway?" Shikadai answered coldly. _I'm not going to run away anymore, Rasa_. "I've already lost everything. Mom, Dad, Uncle Naruto, Konoha…even Suna. And I think I lost Uncle Gaara a long time ago, but I still remember the time when…he loved me." Shikadai choked on his own speech and tears. "So what does it matter?"

Copy-Shikadai quickly got up onto his feet. "I'm telling you. You. Are. A. Monster. Nothing—no one—can change that—least of all, _you_ —"

"I'm telling you, I believe you. I'm a monster. I ACCEPTED THAT A LONG TIME AGO!" Shikadai yelled. He clutched his heart with his hands again. "So why does it hurt so much here? HUH? I accepted that pain and hatred is what I am. Look at tonight! Look at everything I touched _. Look at me_ ," he hissed. "Gone, gone, gone…"

"It's only the beginning!" Copy-Shikadai argued back. "You think what you did tonight was so great? There's so much more blood to spill in the world, Shikadai, it's waiting for you to kill!"

"No. I think what I did tonight was HORRID!" Shikadai cried. "My own mother…couldn't even recognize me! You're always telling me to accept that I'm a monster. And I have. Everywhere I go, I leave destruction behind!" Shikadai panted a few times. "I've accepted that I'm a monster. But you know what? I'm not going to accept going on like this. Why should I protect myself if I'm a monster?"

"You should always protect yourself, it's the only way—"

"FUCK YOU!" Shikadai screamed. "I've lost EVERYTHING! Everything…I ever cared about! Everything that I ever _loved_! Yes, as a monster, I'm not supposed to love anything…other than myself! But I'm flawed, and I've accepted that too! I don't want—I can't have— _this_ —" he pointed at chest—"hurting forever." He gestured at Icho, who was still unconscious in Copy-Shikadai's arms. "She may be—the only one I have left—because I was too busy trying to be a monster. I destroyed my worlds in the process. So dammit, if it's between saving her from a monster or protecting myself, I don't have the energy to allow the latter anymore. I'm sorry."

Copy-Shikadai's eyes narrowed. "You've chosen your path—so be it. But that doesn't change anything."

"I thought I said you and I were the same—" Shikadai protested.

"No _. I_ am you. And I am the monster that you are too afraid to be, Shikadai. But I—heh, heh—I am not afraid." Copy-Shikadai sighed and suddenly smirked again, but this time, his evil intentions shone through clear as day. "I'm afraid I have no choice, _Shikadai Nara_. I need this to survive, and unlike you, I don't plan on dying. Lesson Number One: monsters never allow themselves to die. I'll make sure you never forget it, Shikadai Nara!" As if from nowhere, Copy-Shikadai procured a knife and hovered it over Icho's neck.

Several things happened at once. All of a sudden, Icho's orange eyes flew open and she stared at the knife that would mean her death in a few moments. She opened her mouth and screamed, "SHIKADAI!", acknowledging her Kazekage's nephew by name (rather than Lazy Prince) for the first time.

Copy-Shikadai started to drive the knife in its downward journey into Icho's heart.

Shikadai saw Icho, still alive and kicking, and saw with clarity the fear and betrayal in her eyes that he swore he never wanted to see again. "ICHO!" he yelled, sprinting forward. He didn't know what he would do and how, and he didn't know if he would die, she would die, or if they both would die here today. He was only sure of his now immovable resolve to protect her, because she was the only thing he had left that he still cared about, even if he didn't know her that well. He wanted to protect her in the memory of his fallen village and family. In memory of the uncle he once knew.

Then, the world exploded in gold.


End file.
